


Winter Break

by asilentherald



Series: Winter Break [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, New Year's Eve, New York City, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asilentherald/pseuds/asilentherald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur picks Merlin up out of a snow bank, much to Merlin's displeasure.</p><p>In which Arthur and Merlin are Uni students in New York City, both alone for the holidays, and they find they might actually get on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Break

Merlin was tired. Nay, he was beyond tired—he was dead on his feet, dead to the world, not a single sound registering in his brain as he trudged across campus in the heavy snow. The only thoughts in his head were “shower,” “bed,” and “why the hell did I choose to go to a uni in America in a state where it snows.” Someone called out his name and waved from across the courtyard, but he ignored them. Merlin wanted to respond or something, but his arms were stuck, tucked under his arms, possibly frozen in place.

He may or may not have forgotten to wear a jacket when he had gone to the library two days prior to cram for his last final exam. It hadn’t been snowing or anywhere near as cold then. He may or may not have aced aforementioned final exam, but it meant nothing if he froze to death before he got to see the score. He cursed his apartment for being a twenty-minute walk from campus.

The campus was deserted. It was the end of the last day of finals week and everyone had long gone home. Those who had remained like Merlin were surely already on trains and planes to their warm hearths and Christmas sweaters. Merlin, on the other hand, was destined for his flat, with its dim lighting and inconsistent (nonexistent) heating.

A car rushed by at the first corner outside the campus and drenched him in muddy slush. Merlin swore loudly.

He trudged on.

Halfway to his apartment, when he stopped to buy some crappy food at a 7-11, he realized he had left his wallet and keys in the examination room. He was already shaking. He stretched out his fingers; they were blue on the ends and the wetness was starting to solidify into a thin sheet of ice.

He turned around and started making his way back to the school. The wind blew harder, this time in his face.

Merlin missed his mum, and his cat. Prickly as Kilgarrah was, he usually turned up when Merlin called him for a cuddle. Unfortunately, Kilgarrah couldn’t traverse the Atlantic for him.

“Merlin?”

He spun around and slipped on the ice. He hit the ground _hard_.

“Hey.”

Merlin looked up. His eyes narrowed.

“Prat,” he acknowledged. Arthur Pendragon dropped to his knees and started manhandling him. “Oi! What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m trying to help you up!”

“Oh, get off. I’m fine.”

“You’re blue as a Smurf,” Arthur smirked. Merlin rolled his eyes. Merlin forced his teeth not to chatter. “Why are you out here? Did you go for a swim in the river?”

“No, I’m trying to go home.”

Arthur frowned. “Do you need a lift?”

“I don’t need your help,” Merlin shot, glaring at Arthur’s shiny BMW still running on the side of the road. “I’m going now.”

“Merlin, don’t be daft. You’re half-frozen.”

“Yeah, well, freezing sounds better than being in a car with you for the next ten minutes,” Merlin retorted automatically. He glanced back and regretted it at the shocked look on Arthur’s face.

“I didn’t know you hated me so much,” he finally said, a definite cold edging into his voice.

“I’m—you’re an condescending arse. I’m sure that’s not news to you.”

“You told me that every class this term,” he said. “And every term before that.”

“Then you must be thick if you’re that surprised.”

“I just didn’t think you meant it,” Arthur said. Merlin blinked. Some ice crusts dropped into his eye and burned. He rubbed and gasped until it went away. He expected Arthur to be laughing but he wasn’t. He looked worried. “Let me drive you home, Merlin. You’re in no state.”

“I don’t need help! Why can’t you understand that?”

Merlin turned on his heel and marched away. He made it halfway down the next block before Arthur’s car turned up on his left and kept pace with him.

“Did you leave something at school?” he called.

“Keys. Wallet.”

“They locked the doors for the break already.”

“Fuck. Really?”

Merlin stopped fully, only for the wind gust to push him over into a bloody snow bank on the corner of the road. He relaxed into the cold and breathed deeply. It was calming, the way the cold permeated through his body. He could sleep there, finally. It was probably more comfortable than the shit mattress that he kept on the floor of his flat.

“ _Now_ what are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Go away.”

“Oh, for the love of—.”

“Wha—Arthur!”

Arthur yanked Merlin up by the arm and virtually threw him over his shoulder.

“Christ, you’re freezing!”

“Put me down!”

“Funny, Merlin.”

Merlin heard Arthur open the door of his car.

“Oh, no. You’re not fucking kidnapping me!” Merlin wailed. Arthur shoved him into the passenger seat.  “You’re going to cut me up and serve me to your dogs, aren’t you?”

Arthur glared at him, though the tug of a smile at his lips betrayed him.

“Now’s not the time for jokes, Merlin.”

“Arthur, please,” Merlin said, his voice finally breaking. “Just let me be. I want to go home.”

“Home’s far away for us, I’m afraid,” Arthur said, sounding just as tired and broken as Merlin felt. Merlin’s chest hurt; looking at Arthur in that moment was like looking into a mirror on some of his worst days.

He didn’t have enough energy left in him to argue. The car was already so much nicer and warmer than the snow bank; he was starting to nod off. Merlin finally agreed and pulled his legs into the car, letting Arthur shut the door. Only then Merlin realized just how strong the winds were outside and just how badly the storm was brewing. Arthur got into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb.

“Where are we going?” Merlin asked hoarsely. He was starting to shiver, and his whole body hurt, now that the heat was seeping in and forcing the cold out.

Arthur was watching him while they waited at a light. He looked pained, and he sped away from the light the moment it turned green.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Merlin said. His head was starting to swim. He leaned it against the window. It was nice and cool.

“My apartment,” said Arthur.

“Oh? Is it big and posh with shiny furniture?”

“Not really. That’s more like my father’s home,” said Arthur. He could hear the grimace in his voice.

“Are you living in a hovel?”

“No, that’d be my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Estranged.”

“Oh.”

Merlin watched the lights of the city grow more vibrant and chaotic as they made their way downtown. The long park stretched out on the left side of the car.

“How far downtown do you live?” he frowned.

“81st.”

“And you drive up to school every day?”

“No. I take the subway,” Arthur said. He sighed. “Are you going to try and pick at every potential confirmation of the twisted picture you have of me, Merlin?”

“Are you trying to prove me wrong my driving me to your apartment on the Upper West Side in your beamer?”

Arthur said nothing to that. He turned sharply. The car skidded on the ice, but he got control back with ease and drove them away from the park. Arthur pulled into a parking garage. Merlin watched him talk to the guard by the exit for a minute or so before leaving with a good-natured laugh.

“Why the long face, _Mer_ lin?” Arthur said.

“Nothing.”

“Sure.”

“Prat,” he muttered. They went back outside and walked into the apartment building. The lobby was lavish, but not inordinately. Merlin gaped at the artwork on the ceiling. Arthur grabbed his arm and jerked him away. “Hey! I was busy!”

“Yes, I could see that, but the elevator is here and I’d rather take it than wait for you to finish gawping like a fish at the walls.”

Merlin snapped his mouth shut and crossed his arms. His body still hurt, though not nearly as much. Instead, his extremities felt jarringly numb compared to his core.  He poked his hands and felt very little. Arthur was watching him again with a tiny crease forming between his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Have you slept?”

“Er. No. It’s finals week. I used the shower in the library, though.”

“Comforting,” he grimaced. The elevator finally stopped. “Come on, then.”

“Arthur—”

He was already putting the key into the door of his apartment by the time Merlin caught up. He was wheezing and there was a terrible cough building up in his watery chest.

“Arthur. Hang on.”

“I’m waiting, Merlin,” he said impatiently, hand on the doorknob.

“Just. Thank you, for helping me. I’d probably be sleeping on a bench outside the library right now.”

“You’d be dead by the morning if it wasn’t for me,” he said darkly. “Are you really that much of an idiot to forget your wallet _and_ your keys?”

“I was studying!” Merlin protested. Arthur opened the door and dragged Merlin into the apartment. His jaw promptly dropped.

It was by no means the huge and modern swanky apartment Merlin had envisioned Arthur calling home away from London—not that he had been envisioning Arthur’s apartment, or Arthur at all—but it was beautiful. There were expensive pieces of wooden furniture, including an old bookcase full of old things and personal touches. Everything looked soft and warm. There was even a fireplace.

Most spectacular, of course, were the massive windows overlooking the city, currently blanketed in snow and tucked away for the night, its lights flickering like a heartbeat.

“Don’t drool, Merlin,” Arthur said, interrupting. Merlin stuck his tongue out at him. “Oh, that’s mature.”

Merlin kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch, feeling awkward all of a sudden. Arthur coughed. He ran his hand through his hair, something Merlin noticed he only did when he was unsure of what to do next.

“I’m—soup,” he said, stammering, strangely. His words always came so smoothly whenever they argued in class. “Do you want to shower or something?”

“Er. Yeah, but I don’t have any clothes,” Merlin said, failing to fight down a blush. Arthur pointedly banged around a few pots in the kitchen.

“I’ll see if I have anything small enough. You’re a walking stick, Merlin.”

“I’m lean!”

“Lean as a bone,” Arthur agreed. He left the kitchen and returned with clothes and towels for him. “Second door on the right.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, so Merlin took off before Arthur could say another word. The bathroom was spacious and eerily clean for a uni student. Merlin suspected he had a maid. He stripped down and left his dirty clothes in a pile by the toilet and got into the shower. It bloody _rained_ from the ceiling. Merlin had never seen anything like it. His whole body uncoiled under the steady stream of gently flowing water. The steam felt good, like it was airing out his stale lungs.

The soaps smelled incredible, even if they were a little girly. Merlin took note to mention his observation to Arthur later. He toweled off and glanced at the mirror, which had remained unfogged.

He frowned. “I don’t remember being _that_ thin.”

He knew he had been cutting back on meals since he lost his second job, but he didn’t realize it had had such a visible effect. His stomach growled right on cue. Merlin dressed—Arthur had given him soft flannel bottoms and an old t-shirt that hung off his frame rather sadly—and left the bathroom. He stuffed his wet clothes into his backpack and found Arthur watching him yet again, from the doorway.

“What?” he frowned. “Did I forget to rinse my hair?”

Merlin had done that many times before, much to the amusement of his peers.

“Food’s ready,” Arthur said. He led Merlin to the table where there were two huge bowls of Ramen waiting for them with a haphazardly thrown together salad consisting of lettuce, a badly chopped carrot, and Parmesan cheese.

“Er. I don’t actually know how to make food….”

Merlin burst out laughing. “Better than what I can do,” he laughed. “This is gourmet compared to my usual.”

Arthur smiled weakly and sat down. Merlin followed. They ate in silence. It was all strangely domestic and too easy for comfort, in Merlin’s opinion. He did not like Arthur Pendragon. Arthur took it upon himself to call Merlin out on every damn occasion in almost every class they had shared together. They were in the same program, and they were the only international students.

“I thought we’d be friends,” Merlin blurted out. Arthur looked up from the Ramen. “I mean. At first. Back in the first year. I thought, since we’re both from England, we might get on.”

Arthur started to grin. “But you went and tripped me into the fountain.”

“You were being an arse,” Merlin replied calmly. “You were—well, I don’t really remember what you were doing, but you were being a complete prat.”

“Apparently that hasn’t changed, according to you,” Arthur noted, stabbing the noodles in his dish. He sounded somewhat uncertain, like he was waiting for Merlin to confirm or deny his statement. Merlin did neither.

“It’s sad. This is definitely the best meal I’ve had all semester,” he admitted.

“You’ve got to be joking. This? This is pathetic.”

“A bit, yeah,” Merlin laughed. “Guess that makes me even more pathetic.”

“I never said you were.”

“Come off it, you just picked me up out of a snow bank.”

“True.”

“The school’s going to be closed up for a while,” Merlin said softly.

“Have you got a spare key somewhere?”

Merlin shook his head. “Lost it ages ago. Didn’t have time to get a new one made.”

“You didn’t give one to a neighbor?”

“I don’t have neighbors,” Merlin said. “The floor’s empty except for me.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t exactly have heating one hundred percent of the time. Something’s fucked up with the pipes on the top floor of the building. It was cheap, though.”

“Heating’s kind of important, Merlin,” Arthur admonished. Merlin cringed.

“You sound like my mum now.”

“You ought to listen to her,” Arthur said. He stood up and cleared the table. “Come help me with the dishes.”

Merlin followed him to the kitchen. Arthur tossed a towel at Merlin and started washing. It was not a very large kitchen. The counter space by the sink was not particularly wide, so Merlin’s side was practically flush against Arthur’s. It left Merlin feeling oddly hot and antsy, like he had never felt cold that day in the first place. Even Arthur looked flushed by the time they finished.

“Heat’s turned up a bit high,” Arthur said, his voice unsteady for some reason.

“I like it like this.”

“Okay. Good. Did you want to sleep? Or—”

“Or what?”

Arthur shrugged. “We could watch a movie. I have a lot.”

“Tell me you have trashy rom-coms,” Merlin burst. Arthur looked a little scared. “I—my best friend Will and I used to watch shitty rom-coms when we were snowed in, back in secondary. We usually spent all of Christmas doing that with my mum.”

Arthur must have picked up on something in his tone. He gripped Merlin’s shoulder.

“I think I’ve got some,” he said, “but don’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, of course. That’d ruin your reputation.”

“Reputation? What are you on about?” Arthur laughed, crouching by the DVD rack. Merlin peered over his shoulder.

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” he said, pointing at a drama. “Bit depressing, though.”

“Another day,” Arthur murmured. “I’m not letting you off. What reputation?”

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

“Come on.”

“ _Merlin_.”

“The—oh, for fuck’s sake, what do they say? Hot English Stud-Muffin?”

Arthur spun around. He fell back on his arse and let out a full-bodied laugh, throwing his head back. Merlin laughed too until tears streamed from his eyes. They were both on the floor at that point.

“Honestly, Merlin,” he panted, wiping at his face, turning toward him. “Your friends are barking mad.”

“They’re not my friends! I was eavesdropping in one of the dining halls.”

“And some girls were casually discussing this in front of you?” Arthur asked incredulously. Merlin’s face heated up horribly. Arthur started to smile, though it was not a teasing one. There was something soft about it that scared Merlin. He leaned away ever so slightly.

“They didn’t realize I was there. Not that it would have mattered, right? We’re not really friends.”

Arthur’s face fell. Merlin hated himself for making that happen.

“Well, we can pretend for tonight, right?” Merlin offered, trying to salvage the mess he had made. Arthur still looked rather put off, but he did smile. He pulled _The Princess Bride_ off the shelf. Merlin let out a gleeful noise.

“I never would have pegged you for someone who owned this movie,” he said happily, popping it into the DVD player.

“My sister watched it on loop when we were young,” Arthur said. He sank into the couch. Merlin clung to a pushy pillow and sat on the other end. “I don’t watch it much, but I had a feeling you’d be one of those nuts for it.”

“You’re one of them. I can tell.”

Arthur pursed his lips, then muttered, “That’s inconceivable.”

They laughed as the movie started, and through most of it between their combined ridiculous commentary and Merlin’s occasional squealing, which usually led to Arthur trying to kick him in order to quiet him. Merlin chucked his pillow at Arthur’s head at one point, which he deftly caught and held onto with a smug smile. Merlin glowered at him. He waited a few minutes to launch himself at Arthur and wrestle the pillow back. They were both out of breath, red-faced with mussed hair by the end of the movie.

Merlin felt better than he had in ages. He also felt entirely exhausted.

“Have you got a spare blanket?” Merlin asked, looking around.

“Are you cold?” Arthur asked. He was on his feet and rummaging through a hall closet.

“Nah, I just want to sleep,” he said, patting the couch.

“You know, there’s a bed you can use.”

“I’m not taking your bed,” Merlin frowned.

“I have a guest bed, you idiot,” Arthur said. His face split into a provocative grin. “Unless you’d rather come to mine for a cuddle?”

“You wish,” Merlin said as he crossed the room to Arthur. He stopped very close to him (the hall _was_ rather narrow), feeling a smile just breaking through his tired face. Arthur looked like his brain had shut down. “Where’s that bed?”

“Uh. Right. First door. I’m on the left, if you need anything.”

Merlin peeked into the room. It was beautiful, and the bed—a queen-sized bed with down pillows and a very soft-looking comforter—made Merlin want to cry. He turned back to Arthur.

“I could make love to your bed. It’s amazing.”

Merlin realized just how his words came out a moment too late.

“I meant—it’s a really nice bed. I don’t really have a bed, just a mattress. So this is brill. That’s what I meant. Er. Yeah.”

Arthur shook his head at him. “Eloquent as ever.”

“I’ve always been eloquent, clotpole.”

“Says—wait, what did you just call me?”

“Clotpole. I think it suits you.”

“Whatever, Merlin.”

Arthur turned away and disappeared behind the door to his room. Merlin ran straight into the bed and buried his face in the pillows. He fell asleep so quickly he forgot to turn off the lights. When he randomly woke in the night once, he could have sworn he caught a shape exiting the room, leaving behind total darkness. Merlin decided it was his imagination and fell back asleep.

\---

Merlin woke with a sneeze. When he inhaled, he found he could not breathe through his nose, and his mouth felt like something had died and dried out in the back of it. He tried to sit up, but his head was heavy enough to be considered a weapon. He hit the pillows and the impact made his head spin and everything throb. Merlin moaned and rolled over.

When he woke again, it was midday, according to the clock on the nightstand. He could smell something wafting from the kitchen, but he couldn’t tell what it was. Apparently his sense of smell was shot to hell. Merlin rummaged for his sweater in his backpack and found that it was still soaking wet. He left it out to dry before setting out in search of Arthur.

He padded down the hall with bare feet on the shiny hardwood floors. It still all felt very odd and domestic to him. Arthur was in the kitchen trying and failing to flip a pancake. Merlin snorted when he managed to land the pancake on the counter instead of in the pan. Arthur jumped.

“Oh. You’re up,” he said, sounding relieved.

“Were you worried?” Merlin teased. He failed at sounding remotely teasing, though. His voice was thick and rough with phlegm and speaking sent him into a coughing fit that left him dizzy. Arthur had his hand on his forehead and was leading him to a chair by the fireplace.

“You have a fever,” he frowned.

“Astute observation.”

“If you get me sick—”

“Guess you’re glad we didn’t cuddle, then, huh?” Merlin laughed. He started to cough again and curled up on the chair. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I should go home.”

“You can’t, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Besides, we’re snowed in, I think.”

“Seriously? Haven’t the plows been through?”

“Sort of. Nothing’s open, anyway.”

“Bugger.”

“Yeah.”

Arthur sat on the floor and looked out at the large window. The city was still blanketed in snow, only now Merlin couldn’t tell if it was alive or not. The daylight masked it well. The sky looked ominous, though, as though nature was not quite finished with them yet.

“I’m sorry about this,” Merlin forced out after several minutes of quiet between them. “You don’t need to take care of me.”

“Well, I’m not going to let you die in here,” Arthur snorted.

“It’s a cold, not the bubonic plague.”

“Just—why are you so set on not letting me help you?”

“I’m fine on my own,” Merlin huffed. “Why do you want to help so badly?”

“I’m trying to be nice!”

“It’s weird. Stop it.”

Arthur sputtered. He threw a pillow at Merlin and stalked back to the kitchen where something was surely burning. After a couple of minutes, Arthur returned and dragged Merlin off the chair.

“Hey!”

“Food’s ready.”

“Can’t you just say so instead of pulling me places? God, you’re like a five-year-old.”

“You’re no better,” Arthur muttered. He pushed Merlin into a chair at the table and dropped a half-burnt pancake onto his plate.

“I know how to make pancakes,” Merlin said, prodding the food. It seemed edible. Arthur took a bite and grimaced. “Maybe when I’m not sick.”

Arthur grunted in response and ate. He drained his orange juice. Merlin reached for the carton and Arthur slapped his hand away.

“What now?” Merlin exclaimed.

“You should have something hot,” Arthur said slowly, as though _he_ were the thick one. “Like tea.”

“Think you can make that without fucking up?”

“Oh—you know what? You do it.”

Arthur stood up abruptly. He left his plates loudly in the sink and disappeared into his room. Merlin waited until he heard yet another ridiculously luxurious shower start to stand up and search the kitchen for tea.

The assortment was impressive, Merlin had to admit, and most of it seemed to come from home, none of that Lipton crap that the Americans enjoyed so much. Merlin picked out Irish—his mum’s favorite, and his, coincidentally—and heated up enough water for two. He left Arthur’s mug for him on the table and retreated to his room.

Not ten minutes later, Merlin re-emerged with his headache in full force. He did not hear the shower running anymore.

“Arthur?” he called out, closing the door behind him and turning toward the sitting area. “Have you—oh.”

Arthur was standing by the table with a towel tied loosely around his waist. He cut a beautiful silhouette against the harsh white of the post-snowstorm sky. Warmth crept up Merlin’s neck that had nothing to do with the fever he was running, though he _did_ feel lightheaded all of a sudden, and he could not say if it was Arthur or the sickness causing that.

Of course he chose to turn around then. Arthur pulled the towel up.

“Merlin,” he said roughly. “What do you want?”

“To, er. Apologize. And see if you have any medicine,” Merlin said, reaching to rub the back of his neck. His skin felt hot as coals. “I’ve been acting like a bit of a prick, haven’t I?”

Arthur said nothing.

“I don’t get it, though,” Merlin said before he could stop himself. “You’re _you_. Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What does that even mean?” Arthur asked. “When haven’t I been nice to you?”

“Every damn day for the last three years! You’re—you’re an ass! And now you’re being nice? I don’t understand.”

“I’m not a horrible person, Merlin.”

“I know that! I just—you’re confusing me.”

“You don’t really know me,” Arthur said slowly.

“Nor you me.”

“Then let’s be more than civil,” Arthur said, approaching Merlin. He gulped, struggling to keep his eyes on Arthur’s eyes rather than his lips or his chest or anything south of there. “We’re both alone in a strange land, even after three years.”

“I don’t really have many friends,” Merlin admitted. “Most of the ones I made at uni here graduated early.”

“Same,” Arthur said.

“But haven’t you always got that whole bunch of frat guys following you?”

“Stalking’s more like it,” Arthur chuckled. “They want me to join them. I told them to piss off.”

“Not listening?”

“Nah. It’s not even rush week anymore.”

“Desperate, then.”

“Clearly,” Arthur said, though there was something hollow in his voice that made Merlin want to reassure him that it was okay, whatever _it_ was. He shifted his grip on the towel. “So, er. What do you say?”

Merlin glanced at his feet—nowhere else, he consciously made sure—and bit into his lip. He could feel the heat on Arthur’s body, the tension in his muscles. Then again, Merlin also felt like the world was starting to spin like it did on a carousel.

“Paracetamol?” he said before losing balance and tripping forward. Arthur caught him, and he smelled like strawberries. Merlin passed out.

\---

When Merlin woke up again, he felt worse than he thought he ever could feel.

 _Maybe it’s not a cold, then_ , he thought. He sat up. He was in the guest bed, bundled up in the covers. Merlin looked around. He was alone, though there was a chair pulled up to the side and a clear indentation from someone sitting beside him.

He drew the covers back and shivered. He was drenched in sweat. The fever had broken, at least, but it had left him stupidly weak and tired. Merlin dragged his feet to the door and listened. The flat was silent. Outside, it was snowing heavily again. Merlin flipped a light switch and found that it did not work. He frowned. He tried a few others, but nothing illuminated the room. The air was colder than he thought it would be.

Merlin started a fire in the fireplace and wrapped himself in a blanket next to it. He was dozing, bordering on sleeping, when the door opened and shut.

“Wha—?”

“Merlin! What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Arthur demanded. Merlin blinked a few times to clear his eyes. Arthur was coated in snow, his skin pale and clammy as he grabbed Merlin off the chair.

“Let go! You’re freezing.”

“You made a fire?” Arthur asked, looking past Merlin. The fire was faring well.

“It was cold in here,” he said. “Is the power out?”

“Seems like it.”

“How did you—?”

“Stairs.”

“Isn’t this the twelfth floor or something?”

“Sixteenth.”

Merlin glared at him. “Why were you out there? Isn’t everything closed?”

“Went looking for food,” Arthur said, “and medicine.”

“I’m feeling better!”

“For now. I called up an old friend. He said you’ll be sick for a few days,” Arthur explained. He stiffly stripped his jacket and scarf off. His hand shook as he sat and tried to unlace his boots. Merlin rolled his eyes and dropped to his knees, pushing Arthur’s hands away. He started unlacing the boots for him. “He, uh. He told me what kind of medicine you need and a place that’s still open.”

“Is it someone from home?”

“My father’s friend,” Arthur nodded. “He’s a chemist. A business associate of his owns a pharmacy not far from here.”

Arthur tossed a crinkled white bag at Merlin, even though he was still only a foot or so away from him. It landed between his legs rather lamely. It was from Morteus 24-Hour Pharmacy, according to the green letters and bright yellow flower on the bag. He followed the instructions on the bag and took dry swallowed two pills.

“Thanks,” Merlin said quietly. He stood up and let Arthur take his shoes off.

“I’m going to go wash up. You ought to… sleep, or something.”

“I’ll hang out here, if that’s okay.”

Arthur’s lips twisted at that. “Look, don’t be daft. You don’t have to ask to do shit around here. Just… do it. Okay?”

Merlin nodded. He let Arthur go before digging up a fiction novel he’s had in his backpack and curling up by the fire with it. Arthur eventually returned with a book of his own. They read by the firelight until it was totally dark in the apartment except for the waning embers.

“I don’t think the power’s ever been out this long before,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

“It’ll be fine, once the storm lets up,” Merlin said. He shifted positions. “So. I don’t see a Christmas tree.”

“What?”

“You know, it’s big and green and has lights and things on the branches? Makes little kids happy? Santa puts gifts under it?”

“I know—I don’t like Christmas much,” Arthur said, looking away.

“Why not?”

“Celebrating it like that isn’t something I’ve ever done.”

“Really?” Merlin asked, surprised. “Back home, my mum and I always went all out. We decorated and our cat sometimes used to steal the tinsel. We made tons of food. I couldn’t walk for three days after most Christmases.”

“That sounds… unhealthy.”

“It was,” Merlin agreed, “but it made us happy.”

“We usually had a nice dinner at home. It wasn’t anything special. My sister came to visit most years,” Arthur added.

“What happened, then?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” Merlin accused.

“I’ll tell you when you tell me what happened to your friend Will,” Arthur countered. Merlin’s face drained. “But—only if you want to. You don’t need to.”

“We’re friends, right?”

“I—if you want.”

“Do you?”

“I do,” Arthur said. Even in the slim light Merlin could see his face color red. He smiled.

“Good. Then I’ll tell you, but not now.”

“Fair enough,” Arthur said, sounding relieved. He reached over and took the book out of Merlin’s hand. “What’s this about?”

“Princesses and dragons,” Merlin said flatly.

“No, really.”

“It is! Parts of it.”

They spent a long time talking after that, first about books, and then about uni—about the ridiculous professors they’d had over the years, then the ridiculous and stupid things they’d done in their free time. Eventually they got to stories about secondary school. Arthur was reluctant to talk about secondary, for some reason, so Merlin regaled him with tales of his many adventures in his tiny hometown of Ealdor with Will and his neighbor Freya. At some point, though, he stopped talking and stared at Arthur until he caved.

“Oh, all right. I went to a really posh school,” Arthur said.

“Don’t tell me it was Eton.”

“Er.”

Merlin positively _crowed_ at that. Arthur cringed, but he was smiling nonetheless.

“Father’s in the government,” Arthur said by way of explanation.

“Did you play cricket?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No!”

“Footie,” Arthur said. “Can’t stand cricket.”

“Good,” Merlin grinned. “It’s boring as hell. Footie’s much better. Nicer uniforms, too.”

“Did you play?” Arthur asked, surprised.

“Nah. I ran around with the water. Will played,” said Merlin. “I swam a lot, though.”

“That’s cool, too.”

Merlin shrugged. “What about your sister?” he asked. “I’ve told you what you wanted to know.”

“I don’t think you have,” Arthur said slyly, leaning across the gap between them. “There’s something more here you’re not telling me.”

“Well, tell me about your sister first.”

“Morgana,” Arthur said, looking like it hurt him to say the name. “She’s my half-sister. She ran away when she found out when she was sixteen and I was twelve. Her other half-sister, from her real father and mother, turned up at her school out of nowhere and ruined everything. Father was furious.”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing. He let her go. I can’t tell you who’s more stubborn, him or Morgana,” Arthur said. “She made up with him eventually… but it wasn’t for a good reason.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Arthur. I meant it,” Merlin interrupted. “I won’t make you.”

“I want to,” he said softly. “I haven’t really talked much about this. It was right before I left for the States, and all my friends had gone off.”

“Don’t you talk to them much?”

He shook his head. “Only a few. The rest weren’t great people, just because their parents were rich enough to send them to Eton,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. It wasn’t a great loss. Most of them pissed off when I came out, anyway.”

Merlin stiffened, his own coming out memories flooding back. “Really?”

“Tossers, right?”

“Completely,” Merlin nodded. “So, what happened with Morgana?”

“Father owns a massive company back home,” he said. “I was supposed to inherit it. I think Morgana hated him for abandoning her mother and never quite treating her right, so she wanted to get back at him. She tried to rob him blind. She and her sister got away with half of the fortune before they got caught.”

“Shit.”

“We got it all back,” Arthur said, “and Father cut her off completely, even though he didn’t press charges.”

“Ah. The hovel thing.”

“Yeah. It’s a total shithole, I’ve heard,” Arthur said. “I can’t help but pity her, you know? She didn’t ask for what happened to her mother and to her. She has a right to be angry.”

“But she shouldn’t have done what she did.”

“No. It hurt. I didn’t… I wish she didn’t hate me, too.”

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s hand and squeezed it.

“She is bitter because of your father, not you. You might bear some of the brunt, but it’s not your fault Morgana ended up like this,” said Merlin softly. Arthur’s wide blue eyes were fixed on him, as though he clung to every word he said. “It’s not your fault, okay?”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry,” Arthur said, making to pull away, but Merlin held on more tightly. “I didn’t mean to unload like that.”

“We’re friends,” Merlin said. “You can do that, if you want. I won’t mind.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur said, squeezing his hand once more before pulling away. “I’m going to bed.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up. He felt incredibly dizzy after sitting for so long. Arthur steadied him.

“God, you’re a walking mess, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately.”

Arthur led him to his bed and helped him in, ignoring Merlin’s protestations that he wasn’t a total invalid. He had the good grace to laugh at his mildly delirious jokes and stupid insults. Merlin stopped Arthur before he left.

“Yeah?” he said, turning around. There was his gorgeous silhouette again in the doorway.

“When the shops open, we’re getting a tree.”

“You have to be joking.”

“I’m very serious, Arthur. Christmas is important.”

“We’ll see.”

“Night, Arthur,” he said, rolling over into the pillows. Merlin burrowed into the softness as the second round of meds kicked in and helped pull him into sleep.

\---

The next morning Merlin woke up set on calling the school about his keys and wallet come Monday morning. He hoped he could get his things and go home. Then, halfway through a lazy Sunday spent next to Arthur watching movies, as the power had come back in the night, he realized he did not particularly want to go. It all felt too normal in a way that his five-floor walk up nearly a mile’s walk away from school did not. By the end of Sunday, Arthur’s heat drew him in like fire for a moth; his laugh was all he wanted to hear. By the end of Sunday, Merlin was furiously confused as to how he had missed out on Arthur Pendragon’s company for three long, lonely years.

Arthur looked equally confused, though less frustrated over it and more complacently happy over it all. Merlin threw a pillow in his face when it looked like that dopey grin was permanently etched onto his features. Then Merlin sneezed violently and fell off the couch, much to Arthur’s amusement.

He called the school on Monday anyway. He doubted Arthur really wanted him around for much longer. Unfortunately, the office was closed until the following Monday, which put them at December twenty-seventh. Merlin told Arthur the news.

“I could have told you that,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Look, I wouldn’t dream of imposing—”

“You’re not. I swear. Just—stay here.”

“Really?”

“The walls don’t make for good company,” Arthur shrugged. “You entertain me marginally more.”

“Only marginally?”

“I’m being generous,” said Arthur seriously. Arthur ruffled his hair and heaved himself off the couch. He rummaged through cabinets in the kitchen. “Hmm. We’ll need a lot more food.”

“And a tree,” Merlin called out.

“For the last time—”

“I won’t take no for an answer, Arthur,” Merlin said firmly. “You’re missing out.”

“And you think you can show me that?”

“I know it.”

“You can try.”

“Challenge accepted,” Merlin said. He stuck his hand out to Arthur. “Come on. Shake on it.”

“How about we make this interesting?” Arthur said, clasping Merlin’s arm. “If you can get me into the Christmas spirit, I’ll buy us a tree.”

“And if I fail?”

“You’ll stay ‘til New Year’s,” Arthur said, all of it coming out on one breath. “Take it or leave it.”

“That wouldn’t be much of a punishment,” Merlin said. Arthur looked down, clearly fighting down a smile. It was painfully adorable. “I’ll make us a nice dinner on Christmas if I lose.”

“Oh, god, you’re going to poison me.”

“Hey, I can follow a recipe,” Merlin said.

“You can hardly follow instructions in class without needing assistance,” Arthur snorted.

“Well, recipes I can do. History’s another matter.”

“Then I’d better make sure I win. I can’t cook food that doesn’t come out of a carton to save my life,” said Arthur. “You’re on.”

And so it began.

Come Tuesday morning, Merlin was feeling about thirty-percent better than the previous day, which left him only about twenty-percent sick. He took his meds with breakfast and tried to flatten out his terribly wrinkled and rather smelly clothes.

“Oh, no,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “You’re not going out wearing those.”

“It’s all I’ve got!”

“We’ll buy you more,” said Arthur. “For now, I’ll lend you some of mine.”

“Your normal clothes aren’t going to fit me,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “Can’t I just wear sweats?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not actually bums, Merlin.”

“We’re college students. Same thing.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and dragged him into his bedroom. It was larger than Merlin’s, and the bed was king-sized. The sheets were still a tangled mess. Merlin fought the urge to throw himself onto the bed and roll around.

“Aha! These should work. Go try them on,” Arthur said. A moment later, a bundle of clothes hit Merlin on the side of the head. Grumbling, he walked back to his room and changed. Shockingly enough, the jeans fit him just fine, if a little loosely, but his belt sufficed. The thermal shirt was soft and loose, but Merlin did not mind. It smelled nice, and it kept him warm. He emerged in the hall to receive an armful of scarves, gloves, and coats. They dressed and left the apartment for the first time in several days.

Across the hall, the door opened. A stern-looking woman with red hair and a worn face stepped into the hall.

“Ah, Arthur. Just the man I wanted to see,” she said.

“How are you today, Annis?”

“As well as I can be,” she shrugged. “Would you mind doing me a favor? I’ve run out of a few things and my arthritis is acting up horribly today.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Arthur smiled. She beamed and returned from within her apartment with a short list. “We’ll be back with everything in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Arthur. It’s good to see you having friends over,” she said, looking at Merlin curiously. He held out his hand and introduced himself. “Like the wizard? My children loved the old stories.”

“My mum did, too,” he said.

“I assumed. Well, boys, go on. I’ll see you later.”

Merlin and Arthur walked to the elevator. He waited until the door down the hall shut to inquire.

“Her husband died about a month and a half ago,” Arthur supplied as the elevator arrived for them. “She’s sick, too, so I help her when I can. She makes food for me when I do.”

“That’s really good of you.”

Arthur shrugged. “She’s a strong woman. She doesn’t like asking for help.”

“Still,” Merlin said, bumping his shoulder against Arthur’s. “It’s good of you to help her out.”

Arthur smiled and they got off the elevator. The streets were still white, but the roads were mostly clear and coated in salt. They walked a few blocks over to the nearest Whole Foods, at which Merlin complained, wishing instead for a Trader Joe’s.

“The nearest one is on 72nd, Merlin. We’re not walking that far.”

They bickered all the way to Whole Foods, and most of the time they were shopping as well. Merlin insisted on picking out all things holiday-related. Arthur managed to resist until about halfway through when he snapped at Merlin, and Merlin simply glared and dropped the sugar cookies into the shopping basket.

“Merlin. What don’t you understand about _no_?”

“ _Arthur_. You can’t do Christmas without sugar cookies,” he said. “And you don’t have to snap at me.”

“Can’t have Christmas without a Grinch, can we?”

“What, are you stealing toys now?”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Not sure. But I guess it’s up to me to make your heart grow three times its size.”

Merlin deposited a second box of sugar cookies in the basket and started walking away. He smirked at the sputtering noises Arthur made as he caught up to him.

They gave Annis her things when they returned. In return she essentially gave them an entire three-course meal, complete with a strangely expensive bottle of wine. She thanked them and receded into her apartment.

“Huh. That’s really generous of her,” Merlin said, examining the wine bottle. Arthur was busy putting the food away. He walked over and snatched the bottle out of his hands. “Hey!”

“Not bad at all,” Arthur said, looking impressed.

“Does she usually give you 2006 reds?”

“No,” he said, “but I’m not complaining. Now go put all those cookies away and we can go back out to get you some clothes.”

“Ugh. Really? Can’t I just wear yours?”

Arthur made a choked noise. “ _No_ , Merlin. Don’t you have any sense of propriety?”

“Not really. I also don’t have any money, you dolt.”

“I already said I’d pay.”

“Arthur—”

Merlin squawked as Arthur grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back out the door. After a few hours of searching for an open clothing store that was up to par with Arthur’s standards and much arguing over the bill, Arthur eventually agreed to let Merlin pay him back. Merlin secretly wished he had not been so noble about it all; he could hardly pay for three full meals a day.

“Is that the pharmacy you went to?” Merlin asked, pausing in the middle of a block. Arthur looked back.

“Oh. Yeah. The owner, Nimueh, is an associate of my father’s old friend,” he said. “They don’t really get on.”

“But she still helped?”

“She wasn’t about to turn away a customer on a slow day,” Arthur grinned. “She gives me the creeps, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Gaius says she tried to kill my father, once up on a time,” he went on, as though it was nothing more interesting than the reproductive cycle of a fern. “I think she’s gotten over it, but apparently that’s why she’s here, in the States, instead of back home.”

“God, do all ex-pats know each other?”

“Looks like it, if they’re all here because my father banished them,” Arthur said sullenly.

“He’s rather fond of that, isn’t he?”

Arthur nodded. “Come on. Let’s get home.”

Merlin did not find it odd to agree and call Arthur’s flat home. Not at all. Nor did he find it odd when they ate dinner and drained the bottle of wine while watching _Elf,_ since apparently Arthur had never seen it before, and Merlin always fell asleep halfway through.

He did not break the pattern, he found out when he woke up in the middle of the night curled up against Arthur drooling slightly on his shirt with his fingers curled around the hem near Arthur’s hip. Arthur’s arm was thrown around Merlin’s shoulder, his fingers brushing his upper back whenever Merlin inhaled. Slowly, he extricated himself from Arthur’s arms. Arthur made some noises of protest and curled inward. Merlin threw a blanket over him and retreated to his room.

\---

“Tell me you’ve at least gone to see the tree,” Merlin said through a mouthful of Cheerios. Arthur looked up from his cereal and raised an eyebrow. “You know. The big one at the Rock.”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Oh, for—this is fucking ridiculous. How have you been here for three years without seeing the bloody tree?”

“I keep to myself, mostly,” Arthur frowned.

“Same, but I still make the trip downtown.”

“It never seemed like much fun going alone, alright?” Arthur said. “What with all the… families and couples running around.”

“It’s not so bad,” Merlin said. “It’s always cheered me up.”

Arthur looked up and frowned. “Isn’t this a happy holiday?”

Merlin realized his mistake and dropped his spoon with a deafening clatter. “Right. Well,” he said, standing up abruptly. “I’m going to shower.”

“Merlin—”

“Later, Arthur. I promised, didn’t I?”

Arthur eventually nodded. Merlin smiled and ran into the bathroom. He breathed deeply for a moment, calming himself, but he found he did not need to calm down very much. Usually, if it came up, he felt like running through a window or back in time to take the words back. Now, though, it was okay, for some reason. Arthur made it okay.

He showered, and when he returned, Arthur was waiting on the couch with tea.

“Merlin.”

He patted the seat beside him and pulled him down. Merlin took the tea and drank slowly, pointedly ignoring Arthur’s stare. He set the mug aside and said,

“Will’s dead.”

“I… guessed as much.”

“Really?”

Arthur shrugged. “Call it a hunch. So… what happened?”

“We… it’s complicated,” Merlin said, reaching to run his hands through his hair, like he always did when he was nervous, but missing entirely, they were suddenly shaking so badly. Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hands and held them down. “I came out when it was nearly the end of secondary. Will was really cool about it all….”

“But?”

“I was a little in love with him. He didn’t get that at first.”

“Ah.”

“Everyone at school was being complete shitheads about it,” Merlin went on, “and I didn’t give a crap about any of it. Will was kind of all that mattered, you know? But once he figured out I had a crush on him… he stopped talking to me for a while. I went a little mad, got pissed a few too many times, did some really dumb things.”

Merlin couldn’t meet Arthur’s eyes.

“Will rang me up one night and said he wanted to come by to apologize. I was out at some bar with some random guy,” Merlin said. “I told him I’d stop by to see him tomorrow. So I did. We talked and everything was fine, for the most part. We were walking to the pub when one guy from the bar I’d been in the night before came up to us and started giving me a hard time. I’d told him to fuck off, and I told him again. When he didn’t want to let me off, Will stepped in and tried to shove him away, but the guy pushed him over. Will hit his head on some kind of block on the ground. There was… a lot of blood, really fast.”

“Oh, god,” Arthur breathed. Merlin swallowed dryly.

“He died right after we got him to the hospital.”

“What about the bloke?”

“Ran off. Never saw him again,” Merlin said. “It was December seventeenth.”

“And that was… god, that was Friday, wasn’t it?” Arthur said, his face lighting up with realization. “Shit. Merlin. I’m—”

“Don’t say it,” he said weakly. “Really. But thank you.”

“So… is that why you didn’t want me to help you out?”

“Probably, on some deep psychological plane,” he said, “but mostly because you’re an insufferable prat.”

“You’re an idiot,” Arthur said, shoving Merlin. He fell over with a loud cry and kicked at Arthur. They ended up in a tangle of pillows and limbs, halfway to the ground, thoroughly out of breath from laughing.

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” Merlin said. Arthur’s face was so close to his, he couldn’t look at him properly without going cross-eyed.

“It is. You’re not winning the bet so far.”

“The day is young. I—I had a thought, though. We should have Annis over for dinner tomorrow, so she’s not alone.”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing,” Arthur beamed. “I already asked her. You’re going to have to cook.”

 “I can handle that,” Merlin nodded, his nose brushing Arthur’s soft golden hair. Arthur let out a small laugh and let his head rest against Merlin’s. “Tired already?”

“A bit,” he admitted. “Finals took a lot out of me.”

“What’s on the agenda today?”

“Well,” Arthur said, finally removing his weight from Merlin.

“Thank god, I can breathe again.”

Arthur glared at him. “We can do whatever you want, Merlin,” he said, sounding less than pleased. “As long as we don’t have to deal with anything annoying.”

Surely enough, a few hours later, they were surrounded by screaming children and obnoxiously affectionate couples—two of the most annoying things, in Merlin’s opinion, but it was going to be worth it.

“Ice skating. Really?” Arthur said for the fifteenth time.

“It’s a classic!”

It turned out that Arthur was ridiculously good at skating, even though he had never been on ice before in his life. Merlin, on the other hand, had not improved since the last time he had been skating. He fell no less than four times, and each time Arthur nearly fell over laughing. Once he fell because a child pirouetted right next to him and scared Arthur into losing his balance. Merlin tried to help him up but Arthur ended up dragging him down and leaving him in the dust.

“That was fun,” Arthur said cheerily. His smile dropped when he realized what it meant. “I mean—”

“You mean, I’m winning,” Merlin said. They entered Starbucks and got on line. “The tree’s going to look great by the window, Arthur. I can see it now.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” he grumbled.

They walked up to the park. Before getting onto the subway to get home, Arthur suggested they go walk around the non-existent greenery for a little while. The slopes of ice and snow were gorgeous, framed by the tall buildings and the painfully clear sky. There was another storm on the horizon, according to the forecast.

Merlin was so busy staring at the sky he nearly toppled over when the snowball hit the back of his head.

“Ow!”

He spun around. Arthur was already forming another one and preparing to lob it at his face.

“Your ears make great targets, Merlin!” he called out.

“Yeah, well, your head’s so big I don’t think I could miss!”

“I have faith you’ll find a way,” Arthur said. Merlin scooped up some snow only to receive a face-full from Arthur.

“It’s _on_.”

\---

Their clothes sat by the fire still dripping when Merlin emerged from the shower.

“Arthur?”

No answer. He padded through the apartment, still toweling off his hair. He peered into Arthur’s room through the open door and heard the shower running.

Merlin turned on the TV and grinned massively. He ran to the kitchen and started searching through the cabinets. He found a mostly full bottle of vodka tucked away in the mostly empty liquor cabinet and brought it out to the living room. Arthur gave him a sincerely confused look when he emerged from the shower with water still dripping from his hair and rolling down his neck beneath his shirt. Not that Merlin was watching the progression of those droplets. Nope.

“ _Miracle on 34 th Street_,” Merlin announced, gesturing at the old movie just starting.

“What about it?”

“It’s ridiculous, but it makes a great drinking game,” Merlin said. Arthur started to grin.

“What’re the rules?”

“Depends. How pissed do you want to get?”

Needless to say, taking a shot every time someone said _Santa_ was definitely not the smartest idea they had. They were a giggling, stinking mess on the floor before the movie was halfway over. They stopped paying attention after a while and took to talking about anything and everything. They finished off the bottle. Merlin wobbled into the kitchen and returned with several bottles of water.

“The night… is young,” Arthur declared after a particularly long discussion about the plausibility of an entire planet made of cheese was cut off by the bells of a church tolling nearby.

“Right! But—we have things to do tomorrow,” Merlin said. “Can’t do things if everything’s gonna hurt.”

“It’s a nice hurt.”

“Not this kind, idiot,” Merlin said. “There are other kinds of nice hurts, though.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed dreamily. He was watching Merlin again, and Merlin could not say he minded very much at all.

“I like this. Us, hanging out,” Merlin babbled. “Being friends.”

“We’re friends,” Arthur nodded. “Best friends.”

“Yeah. Yeah! Are we? Let’s be best friends.”

Arthur nodded and shook Merlin’s hand. “Good. You’ll love having me as your friend. I’m great.”

“You’re really dumb,” Merlin laughed.

“You tried to sleep in the snow!”

“I was really tired, okay? That final was fucking brutal… like the Russian winter.”

Arthur snorted. “Idiot.”

There was no heat in his words. In fact, the only heat present was the blush rising on Merlin’s face faster than an out of control train. It felt a little like being on an out of control train, too, the way Arthur just _looked_ at him, not held back by any boundaries imposed by sobriety. The fondness was almost familiar, like he’d seen it a million times before, though it was usually veiled behind an insult or hidden within a laugh.

Merlin stood up shakily. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk and sober up.”

“It’s only eleven!”

“We’re getting up early tomorrow,” Merlin said.

“Why?”

“To see the tree, of course!”

“We saw it today,” Arthur said flatly. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No! We were, like, fifty feet too far away. We’re gonna go right when it opens up so we can personally say good morning.”

“You want to get up to talk to a tree?”

“It’s a famous tree.”

Arthur took Merlin’s hand and stood up. He brushed himself off and looked down at the empty bottle on the table. Merlin picked up his water and drained it. Arthur was watching again, but Merlin did not mind at all.

\---

Arthur fell a little in love with the tree, even if they had gone down at 5:30am to see it before the crowds poured in. Merlin could see the hearts in his eyes the moment they got past the last set of trumpeting angels. The magnificence was a little hard to ignore. It was overwhelming, but in a really lovely way. If Merlin caught Arthur saying hello to the tree, he did not mention it.

They ate breakfast in a café further uptown before returning to the apartment. Annis stopped by with announcements about a dinner reservation, as a thank you. Merlin groaned when he learned it was an upscale restaurant where even his nicest khakis would not do. Luckily, according to Annis, she had one of her son’s old suits that she was sure would fit Merlin perfectly. While he went over to try it on, Arthur left to run a few errands.

The suit fit like a glove. Uncomfortable as it was, Merlin knew he’d never looked better. Annis was delighted.

“I’m glad it’ll get some use.”

They chatted a little while longer until Merlin offered to make some cookies for her. Annis seemed to like the prospect, so he returned to the apartment and started making the sugar cookies. Not a minute after he put the tray in the oven, the door burst open and a large fir tree walked in.

“Arthur?” Merlin called out. The tree grunted. Merlin hurried forward and helped him balance the tree against the bookshelf. A few stray books hit the floor dully. Merlin picked them up and stepped back. Arthur was red in the face and looked thoroughly out of breath, but generally pleased with himself.

“So,” Merlin said gleefully.

“Shut up.”

Arthur snatched the books out of his hands, but he was grinning all the same.

“Is it… good?” he asked, looking unusually uncertain. Merlin smiled softly and put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder as they both looked on at the mass of pine needles that’d surely be a pain to clean up in a week.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

Merlin pulled Arthur into a hug then, because it felt appropriate in that moment. Arthur stiffened, and Merlin made to let go, already starting to regret it a thousand times over—the last thing he wanted to do was make his host feel super awkward—but Arthur softened, snaked his hands around Merlin’s body and pulled him back in. Arthur’s clothes were still cold from being outside, but his body was warm, and his warmth wrapped Merlin up so pleasantly. Merlin relaxed, breathing in Arthur’s strawberry-scented hair.

Arthur pulled back eventually. He looked dazed.

“What was that for?” he asked breathlessly, as if they’d done far more than just hold each other for a long time.

“Thanks,” Merlin said. “This, all this. Everything you’re doing. It means a lot.”

“How do you know I didn’t buy that tree for myself? Who said I was sharing?” Arthur teased. Merlin laughed.

“Have you even got any decorations?”

“Annis is bringing hers later,” Arthur explained. “I figured… it’d be for all of us.”

“It’s not like we’ve got other family here,” Merlin said.

“Is that okay?” Arthur asked. “Would you rather be with your mom?”

“I miss her,” Merlin admitted, “but we wouldn’t have such a nice tree, and I care a hell of a lot about that tree, Arthur. I need to make sure it’s decorated properly.”

“We’ve only just gotten it! How can you—”

Arthur stopped. His face colored brightly as soon as he understood just what Merlin meant. He looked away, failing at hiding a grin.

“Go on and get changed,” Merlin said, stifling laughter, giving Arthur a light shove. He returned to the kitchen and pulled the cookies out of the oven. Merlin let them cool before setting them on a plate and bringing them over to Annis.

“Arthur got a tree, then?” asked Annis, peering over Merlin’s shoulder through their open door.

“I hear you’ll be providing decorations,” Merlin said.

“That boy hasn’t got a holiday-themed bone in his body,” Annis says, shaking her head with a fond smile, “but that’s not much his fault. I think you’ve been a good influence on him.”

“We hardly know each other,” Merlin blushed.

“He told me you’ve been in school together for years.”

“Yeah, but we never talked much until last week,” Merlin said. Annis smiled.

“Better late than never,” she said.

Merlin returned to the flat and changed slowly. He combed through his hair several times before getting it to stay the way he wanted, Annis’s curious smile and more curious words running through his mind.

It was almost as if the last three and a half years hadn’t happened. Arthur hadn’t been his friend during that time. Only during the last couple of days did he feel the city around him. Only with Arthur did he feel happy about where he was and less like each day was a chore—only _now_ did his life feel real and full.

Arthur was a good influence on him, all right. At very least, he made Merlin smile, and that was enough of a reason to feel grateful and a little bit enamored.

Merlin skidded to a stop, his hand on the cool metal of the doorknob.

_Was it really that simple?_

His heart skipped and beat faster. He heard Arthur’s bedroom door open. Merlin walked out into the hall and saw Arthur looking almost unbearably beautiful in a dark blue suit and tie. The moon shone brightly through the window and illuminated the lines of Arthur’s body like a dusting of snow.

He was eating one of the few sugar cookies Merlin had saved for them.

“Don’t eat all of them, you prat,” Merlin said before he could stop himself. Arthur started and turned around. He swallowed, his eyes tracing Merlin with the care of an artist’s hand.

“Something wrong?” Merlin asked innocently.

“Of course not,” Arthur said. He put down his half-eaten cookie and buttoned his jacket. “Shall we go?”

He offered Merlin his arm. Arthur may or may not have been serious, in spite of the grin on his face. Merlin made to take to but he stopped and started to laugh.

“What now?”

“Hang on,” he said.

Merlin closed the distance between them and touched Arthur’s lips lightly with his fingers, brushing away a few stray crumbs from around his mouth.

“There,” he said, sounding far weaker and more hoarse than he’d meant to let on. He tried to step away, but his body seemed all too reluctant. His heart hadn’t stopped racing, but Merlin figured it was only natural, now that it was all starting to make sense.

There came a loud banging at the door, followed by some muffled shouting and more banging. It was loud enough that Merlin couldn’t tell whether it was their door or Annis’s. It went on and showed no sign of stopping.

The moment was lost, naturally. Arthur let out a terse sigh.

“I’ll go see what’s going on,” Arthur said. Merlin tried to ignore the gnawing disappointment in the pit of his stomach and wrapped a scarf around his neck. Arthur opened the door and the banging abruptly stopped. He was saying something as the door opened, and then he stopped mid-word. Annis’s door opened as well, and the stranger started talking again, but Annis said something quietly and silenced the stranger.

Merlin made his way to the door and circled around Arthur’s rigid form. All the warmth in him was completely gone.

“What’s happening?” Merlin asked.

The stranger, a woman, dressed mostly in black, some of her clothes tattered and in rags, with an old grey hat on her messy hair, was beautiful, even in such a state. She was shivering, but the jut of her chin bespoke no desire for pity. The distress on her face was plain, though.

“Arthur?” he asked again. The woman’s eyes rested on Arthur; she was pleading, now. Arthur stiffened even further, if that was possible.

Arthur pursed his lips, pushed Merlin back into the flat, and shut the door.

\---

 “What the hell was that?” Merlin demanded. Arthur strode across the flat, his back still a rigid plane, down the hall toward his bedroom. “Arthur!”

“What, Merlin?” he snapped.

“Care to explain?”

“That’s Morgana,” Arthur said. “My sister.”

“Your sister?” Merlin repeated. “How is she here?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” Arthur muttered. He walked into his room and started searching for something under his bed. “I haven’t heard from her in four years, and we were still in London then.”

“How did she find you?” Merlin asked.

“Do I look like I know?”

“No, but you should find out,” Merlin said. He sat down on the bed. “What are you going to do about this?”

Arthur remained silent. His whole arm was under the bed; he pulled back and came out holding a box. He took off the lid and revealed a pile of photos and clippings. He made no effort to hide the contents, so Merlin looked his fill from where he sat. Morgana and Arthur’s faces were easy to pick out. They looked happy and young. An older man appeared in one or two photos, whom Merlin decided was probably their father. Arthur stopped rummaging when he came across a slip of paper with an address written on it.

“She was living in London,” said Arthur, staring at the paper. “That’s what I heard last.”

“Did your father banish her to the States, too?”

“I didn’t think he had,” Arthur said, rising up to sit next to Merlin on the bed. “As far as I knew, he hadn’t run her all the way out.”

He sounded distraught. He held onto the papers and photos in his hands tightly enough to wrinkle them. Merlin put his arm around Arthur’s shoulder and drew him close.

“I’m not a girl, Merlin,” Arthur scoffed as he settled in and let his head rest in the space next to Merlin’s neck.

There was knocking at the front door again, this time lighter and nowhere near as urgent.

“That’s Annis,” said Arthur, his breath warm against the skin on Merlin’s neck. Merlin did his best not to blush or react more obviously.

“Do you want me to go?” Merlin offered.

“No, I’ll go,” Arthur said, extricating himself from Merlin’s grip. His eyes lingered where Merlin’s neck was surely red from Arthur’s weight.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, “we don’t need to go to dinner. We can stay in. Annis wouldn’t mind, I’m sure of it.”

“No, I want to go,” Arthur said. “I just—she threw me off, is all.”

“I know,” Merlin said, standing up. “Just make sure you know it’s okay to be thrown off.”

Arthur looked at him strangely. He nodded and left. Merlin sat back down on Arthur’s bed and started looking at the photos. They looked happy. It was glaringly obvious that Morgana and Arthur weren’t wholly related. Uther, though, looked at them equally fondly, if not more so at Morgana. Merlin wondered where it all went wrong.

Twenty minutes later, Merlin was dozing on Arthur’s pillows—they were silky, for fuck’s sake—when Arthur returned. He laughed, startling Merlin out of his nap.

“Comfortable?” Arthur smirked.

“Shut it. I’m tired,” Merlin said with a playful shove once Arthur was sitting next to him again. “What do you want to do now?”

“Annis… called the restaurant. We’re now a party of four.”

He sounded like he was physically in pain. Merlin ogled.

“Are you serious?” Merlin asked. “Why?”

“I want to try, Merlin. I—I’ve missed her, in spite of all the terrible things she’s done,” said Arthur. “I’m giving her a chance to make things right.”

“Is that why she’s here?” Merlin asked.

“You don’t trust her,” Arthur remarked.

“Do you?”

“I don’t, but some part of me wants to. Can you understand that?”

“You didn’t answer my question. What does she want from you?”

Arthur shook his head. “To apologize, make things right, all that lark,” he said.

“I think there’s something you’re not telling me,” Merlin said slowly. Arthur looked at his folded hands. “I won’t make you tell me, but I’d like to know.”

“It doesn’t concern you at all,” Arthur said, sounding bewildered, taking away any caustic taste from his words. “Why do you care, Merlin?”

“I don’t want to see you hurt. We’re… friends, right?” Merlin said. The word sounded foreign and wrong in his mouth. Arthur nodded, still looking down at his hands. “Trust me, then. I’m looking out for you.”

“You weren’t a week ago.”

“It’s been a hell of a week, you have to admit.”

“Fair point,” Arthur said softly, finally smiling. He glanced at Merlin almost hesitantly, but Arthur’s characteristic confidence flickered into sight.

“Arthur?” Annis called from the doorway. “It’s time to go.”

He cleared his throat.

“Right. Shall we?”

Merlin offered Arthur his arm; it was his turn to support and help, after everything Arthur had done for him. Arthur rolled his eyes, gave him the usual light shove, and walked out, but the shape of his shoulders and the way he ducked his head and dug his hands into his pockets told Merlin that it was the best he could do, in the state he was in. It was Arthur’s way of accepting his help, so Merlin hurried after him, slinging his scarf around his neck once more.

\---

Morgana cleaned up very nicely, Merlin decided. He was seated next to her at dinner. Annis had shoved her into the shower and lent her a dress her son’s wife had left in her flat once. Her hair was sleek and shiny, and her face was devoid of dirt. She still looked around at the opulent restaurant as though it would disappear at any moment. Her hands weren’t terribly steady as she cut her food, either. Merlin expected to hate her for what she’d done, but he found himself pitying her less than an hour into the dinner.

She was painfully quiet, too, and she watched Arthur the whole time with her lips pressed in a tense line. Morgana caught him staring once or twice, but she did nothing about it other than purse her lips even more tightly.

“Do you go to school with Arthur?” Morgana asked in the middle of a dead moment, turning her pale face on Merlin. He nearly choked on his food.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing a too-large piece of a potato. “We’re in the same program. Er. History.”

Morgana nodded. Annis excused herself to go to the toilet.

“Where have you been?” Arthur burst. She looked up from her plate, startled.

“Here and there,” she said, quickly regaining her cool. “More places than you can imagine.”

“I’m sure,” Arthur said. He refolded his napkin, then spread it on his lap again. “I—are you well?”

“Well enough, thanks,” Morgana said. She sipped her white wine. “Morgause is dead, if you’re wondering.”

Arthur’s hands stilled.

“What happened?”

“An accident,” she said icily.

“Father—”

“I can’t say if he had anything to do with it,” Morgana said. “It was years ago now. I doubt I’ll ever know.”

“That’s horrible,” Merlin blurted. Both Pendragons turned to him as though he’d materialized out of thin air. Merlin gulped down half of his glass of water.

“I’ve been in the states for years, Arthur,” Morgana said. She spoke gently now, and it made her voice hoarse. “I had no idea you were here.”

“How did you find me, then?”

“I have contacts, and one of them sent me to an old friend of Uther’s to get Annis’s address.”

“Why?”

“I’ve run out of luck,” Morgana said simply. “As much as it pains me to say it, I need help. Anyway, Nimueh mentioned that you’re the one who gets Annis’s meds for her, and she told me where to find both of you.”

“What do you want, Morgana?” Arthur said wearily. “Money? I’ll give you money. I’ll put you up in a hotel and help you find work, if you want.”

“That’s all great but—I’d rather… no, it’s silly. I should—I shouldn’t have come to you,” Morgana said suddenly. She pushed her chair out noisily and haltingly emerged from the table. She grabbed at her borrowed coat and looked around for the exit, but Annis was returning already, and Arthur was at a loss.

Merlin stood up and took Morgana by the arm. He led her quietly out of the restaurant and sat her on the bench by the door. He sat next to her, giving her just enough space. She squeezed her eyes shut for a long time as she breathed even, controlled breaths. Eventually, Morgana’s body relaxed, unwound a little, and she sat back. She looked out at the road and watched the cars go by on the busy avenue.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said eventually. “I don’t know anything about you at all, only what Arthur’s told me.”

“Nothing good, then.”

“No, nothing bad, but he always looked too sad to talk about the good things,” Merlin said. “Whatever it is you’re doing, just… don’t hurt him. If you try to do that again—”

“My, you’re protective of my brother,” she said with a low laugh. “Fancy him much?”

“We haven’t been friends all that long,” Merlin said, ignoring her comment, “but Arthur’s a good person. He doesn’t deserve this, if you haven’t got a good outcome planned for him. So I’m going to ask you to go if that’s the case. I’ll tell them you left and I couldn’t stop you.”

“Why?”

“So you can live your life, whatever you’ve made of it, and so Arthur can live his.”

“That’s the problem,” she said. “Arthur’s a fool. He’s not going to move on, not unless someone makes him.”

“I’ll—”

“Would you believe me if I told you I only want my brother back?”

“I want to,” Merlin said quietly. “But I don’t know you, so I don’t know if I should.”

“I want to do what’s right, after all the shitty things I’ve done,” Morgana confessed. “It’s that simple. I saw an opportunity to see Arthur and I took it.”

“Damn the consequences?”

“Exactly!” Morgana said, smiling truly for the first time since Merlin met her.

“I had a friend who went about life just like that. He was a tosspot and a total arse half the time, but he always meant well,” Merlin said. He stopped himself. “Why are you telling me all this? You don’t know me from that guy peeing on the building across the street.”

Morgana chuckled softly.

“I got this feeling when I saw you with Arthur that I’d better get on your good side if I want Arthur to listen to me,” Morgana said. “Is that strange?”

“A bit. I don’t know Arthur all that well….”

“I’d guess you do,” Morgana said. “I can tell.”

“We weren’t friends—”

“You can know someone your whole life and never know them well,” Morgana said sagely. “It works the other way, too.”

Merlin didn’t respond to her. She stood up, her face gaunt in the poor glow of the streetlights.

“Can we go back?” Morgana asked, watching the door of the restaurant. “I won’t try and run again.”

“Can you swear you won’t?” Merlin said, standing as well. “I don’t think Arthur would take that well.”

“I swear,” Morgana said. They shook on it in an absurdly formal manner, and it made her laugh again. Merlin prided himself in that. She was still smiling when they entered the restaurant and approached their table. Their dinners had been cleared away and a few desserts were set on in a colorful display.

Arthur was pale and nervously bouncing his leg under the table. Merlin took his seat between him and Morgana.

“Is that Christmas pudding?” Morgana asked, her wide eyes fixed on a small bowl placed before her.

“It’s your favorite, isn’t it?” Arthur asked. Morgana looked up at him and nodded. She pursed her lips, but her eyes shone. Morgana dug into the food, and Merlin followed. Annis daintily ate her cheesecake with a knowing smile on her face. Eventually, the tension around Arthur eased up and he ate his dessert as well. Merlin did everything in his power not to reach and squeeze Arthur’s leg reassuringly—it was the closest part of Arthur to him—so he settled for shooting him glances that must have come off as more desperate and amusing than anything. Arthur smirked and kicked him under the table.

“Ow!”

“Don’t abuse him, Arthur,” Morgana said as she finished her pudding. “He’s a keeper.”

“I don’t abuse him. Right, Merlin?”

“You drag me everywhere. You throw things at me. You call me names—”

Morgana was _laughing_ , and it made the rest of them crack up. Arthur didn’t even seem to care that he’d sided with Morgana in that moment. Annis looked pleased.

“We ought to go back and decorate,” Annis said. “My old body can’t stay awake as late as you all can.”

“Of course,” Arthur said. He called for the cheque and paid before Annis could even reach for her purse.

“Arthur,” she admonished, “you’re taking advantage of my arthritis.”

“It’s a treat from us, Annis. Let it go.”

Arthur helped her into her coat and took her arm. Merlin was already lined up with Morgana. They walked back to Arthur’s car listening to Annis and Arthur discuss proper tree-decorating methods. Morgana snorted at something Arthur said.

“He doesn’t know how to decorate a tree to save his life,” Morgana said gleefully. “This is going to be beautiful.”

“Will you stay with us?” Merlin asked. “You can, with is, if you want. I can take the couch.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Please. It’ll be the easiest way to get Arthur to listen,” Merlin insisted. “How do you think I broke through to him?”

“Something tells me he broke through to you,” Morgana said curiously. Merlin felt in that moment that her pale green eyes could see right into the heart of his soul, into the spaces with which even he wasn’t acquainted. “Yes, that’s definitely what happened.”

Merlin only opened the door of Arthur’s car for her and let her in without giving a response.

\---

The decorating was an entertaining affair. The first half hour consisted of Merlin and Arthur wrestling the tree into the stand, which resulted in many books falling off the shelves, Arthur nearly crushing Merlin with the tree, and a lot of cursing and shouting.

Merlin was sweaty and achy by the time the tree could stand upright. At that point, Morgana and Annis were sorting through the lights and tinsel and old, glittering orbs. Arthur stumbled out from behind the tree.

“That wasn’t too bad,” he panted. Merlin stared at him. “Okay, that was a little awful.”

“A fun awful,” Merlin said. Arthur grinned.

Morgana floated between them and started weaving lights and tinsel through and over the tree branches. She was smiling.

“She’s….”

“She’s trying, Arthur. Let her try,” Merlin said. Arthur nodded, leaning slightly against Merlin as they settled into the folds of the couch. Annis shook her head at them.

“You’re too young to be tired this easily,” she said. “Come now,” she said, tossing a few old rubber balls at them. “Help us out.”

Merlin gathered up the balls and made a face.

“Don’t tell me you can juggle,” Arthur said. “I wouldn’t believe you. You’re too clumsy.”

“Is that a challenge, Pendragon?”

“Hardly,” he snorted.

Merlin jumped to his feet, energized. He hadn’t juggled since secondary; it was something he and Will had done for no reason at all, other than to pass the time. He started off a little shakily, but eventually Merlin got the old rhythm back and was juggling four balls. Annis threw a fifth one in and nearly made him lose balance, but he managed it just fine, even if he broke a bit of a sweat over it.

It was all worth it for the dumbstruck look on Arthur’s face. He catalogued it away for a glum day, open mouth and slightly flushed skin and all.

\---

Annis left them after another hour or so of decorating. The quiet between Arthur and Morgana was a little tense, but not enough to be truly uncomfortable. When they did talk, it was Morgana reprimanding Arthur for not creating a proper balance of baubles and tinsel. Merlin helped, but eventually he sat back with a book and let them go at it together. He nodded off with his book and the tree-topper in his arms. Arthur shook him awake.

“Want to finish it off?” he asked.

Merlin nodded tiredly and climbed up the step stool.

“You’re making me do this because I’m tallest, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” they replied in unison. From the top of the tree, the resemblance was clear between them. Merlin positioned the star and plugged it into the loop of lights. Morgana plugged the whole set in and the whole room came alive with warm colors.

Merlin was thrown back in time to his Christmases with his mother. He could smell the cookies and the Yule log baking, and he could hear Will shouting about which shitty rom-com was on next. Yet, even though none of that was actually there in Arthur’s flat, he felt just as content, just as at peace, more than he had since leaving for the States.

Going by the looks on Arthur and Morgana’s faces, they were feeling something similar.

They ate a couple of sugar cookies before turning in. Merlin gathered his things from the guest room and set them by the couch. Arthur changed the sheets on the guest bed while Morgana took another shower, only because she could.

Arthur emerged from the guest room with his hair sticking up. He had a blanket and a few pillows under his arm, but he didn’t seem eager to hand them off.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“I, er. You don’t have to stay on the couch,” Arthur said. “What I mean—you can stay with me, in my room. I have a lot of space on the bed and there’s no reason for you to stay out here.”

“Arthur—”

“I don’t mean anything untoward by it,” Arthur said hurriedly, his cheeks coloring brilliantly, and a little beautifully, in Merlin’s opinion.

“How noble of you,” Merlin retorted. “I’m not worried for my virtue, Sir Knight.”

“King Arthur, Merlin. We took a whole course on this,” Arthur said.

“I didn’t want to feed your ego, prat,” Merlin grinned.

“Hey. I did a great job with the tree,” Arthur said. Merlin groaned.

“ _Morgana_ did a great job with the tree.”

“I helped!”

“Sort of.”

“More than you. You slept.”

“Oi! I was sick! I’m still recovering.”

“Whatever you say, Merlin. I still think you’re a lazy bum.”

“Oh, well, don’t think too hard, _my lord_. You might hurt yourself,” Merlin said, pulling the pillow out of Arthur’s hands. His face fell a fraction, but Merlin brushed past Arthur. “Are you coming or what? We can stay up and wait for Father Christmas, if you really want.”

Arthur pulled him into a headlock and dragged him into the room, shutting the door behind them. There was a period of roughhousing and squabbling for pillows and purchase that ended in somewhat hysterical laughter and a few accidental bruises and the two of them tangled up in the sheets.

“Night, Arthur,” Merlin said, snuggling into the silky pillows.

Arthur mumbled something in response, but he was already entrenched in the blanket and hogging it. Merlin jerked it away from him, but Arthur fought back until they ended up in the same pocket of warmth, and with not a whole lot of space between them, but it was warm and comfortable, and Arthur didn’t seem too bothered by their proximity. Merlin had little to complain about, other than Arthur’s feet being cold.

“Shut up. Yours are freezing, too.”

Merlin stuck one foot between Arthur’s calves and positively cackled at the way he started and flailed. He whacked Merlin over the head and settled back into the warmth, trapping their cold feet together until they were warm. By then, Arthur was asleep, and Merlin was in a bit of a daze.

It was still disturbingly domestic, but Merlin didn’t mind it at all now, so he let sleep claim him and slowly drag him closer to Arthur, like a moth to a flame.

\---

Merlin woke facing the dent in the pillow where Arthur’s head had lain. He turned away and pretended not to be disappointed that Arthur himself hadn’t been there. Just as he started drifting back into sleep, the bedroom door opened and Arthur crept in. He tiptoed to his closet, only to emerge and leave the room again, closing the door quietly behind him.

The door, naturally, bounced back open, just enough for Arthur and Morgana’s voices to waft to Merlin’s ears. He was too drowsy to make out exactly what they were saying, but they spoke quietly, in even, controlled tones, and at length. Merlin went back to sleep.

When he woke again, their voices were raised, but there wasn’t anything hostile about it. He couldn’t hear tension in their words that had been present since Morgana’s arrival. Arthur laughed at something she said, and her own tinkling laughter followed. Merlin smiled into the pillow. He was awake though, so he made for the door.

He realized as his hand met the knob that perhaps Arthur would rather he leave, now that Morgana was back. It made Merlin’s insides churn.

In his hesitation, he heard Morgana say, “I never thanked you properly for what you did, did I?”

“You threw me out of your house,” Arthur said, laughing.

“You were shouting at me,” Morgana shot back. “I’d had enough of that from Uther.”

“You set Morgause on me, too.”

Morgana paused.

“I am sorry for that.”

“Tell that to the scar on my back,” Arthur muttered.

“I am grateful, though,” Morgana pressed on. “You’re a better man than our father, even then.”

“I was young.”

“Yet your heart was in the right place.”

Arthur said nothing. “I’m going to see if I can get Merlin to wake up.”

“Shall I get ready to go, then?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said. Chairs scraped across the floor and Merlin flung himself back into bed. He buried himself in the pillows and sheets and tried to look asleep. Arthur made no effort to keep quiet this time around.

“Merlin.”

“What?” he moaned.

“Get up,” Arthur said sweetly. He dragged the covers off of him. Merlin curled up against the cold. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Merlin, it’s not that cold.”

“Gimme the blanket back,” Merlin said, grabbing blinding. He latched onto the flannel of Arthur’s pajama pants and let go as though burnt. Arthur chuckled, the bastard.

“We’re getting breakfast now. Let’s move.”

Merlin grumbled and made his way to the door.

“Where are you going now?” Arthur asked.

“Shower.”

“Morgana’s in there.”

“Oh.”

“You can use mine….”

“Oh. If you’re sure,” Merlin said hesitantly. There was something invasive about using Arthur’s bathroom, more so than sleeping in his bed with him. He couldn’t quite reason why.

“Just go, Merlin. We haven’t got all day,” Arthur said, smiling.

“What’s the rush?” he asked as he gathered his clothes.

“No reason.”

“Liar.”

Arthur looked at him, surprised. “Really? You could tell that easily?”

“You’re not that hard to read,” Merlin shrugged. Arthur gave him a look that plainly said, _no, I usually am_ , but he didn’t say anything, only watched Merlin disappear behind the bathroom door.

\---

After breakfast at a diner a few blocks away, they ended up going to the shelter where Morgana had been staying lately. It was pretty far downtown, south of 14th Street, tucked away on a street corner behind some construction work. The women there looked sickly and tired, and some of them were bruised terribly, but they smiled and thanked them for their help as they ladled out soup and pasta and distributed cuts of meat.

The usual workers looked ready to cry tears of joy when Arthur and Merlin turned up with Morgana. Merlin couldn’t tell if it was because they saw that Morgana had finally found a safe place to stay or if because they were perpetually shorthanded and any help, especially on Christmas, was deeply appreciated.

So they donned gloves and hairnets and did their best to stay energized and happy for the women there. Some of them hit on Arthur almost continuously, much to Merlin’s amusement. He received some attention too, but they seemed to catch on fairly quickly that he was gay. Arthur, apparently, was a little bit harder to read.

Merlin briefly considered saving Arthur, after he mouthed _SAVE ME_ to him for the twelfth time that day, but the women were harmless, and Arthur did a marvelous job of keeping them entertained while maintaining a professional distance. Posh as he was, he was good with people of all sorts when it really mattered. If Merlin was a little proud of how well Arthur handled it all, he did his best to hide it.

“Is he your boyfriend?” one younger girl asked. She couldn’t have been older than seventeen.

“Oh, no. He’s a good friend, though.”

“You sure about that, Bennett? Because he’s giving you Darcy eyes right about now,” the girl giggled. Merlin looked down the serving line and caught Arthur staring, his mouth caught somewhere between a smile and a frown. Merlin smiled at him, and Arthur quickly smiled back and returned his attention to the line of women before him.

“Yeah, love. We’re just friends.”

She shook her head.

“It’s not always like in the movies, you know,” Merlin said, “as great as that’d be.”

“I know. How d’you think I ended up here?” she said without a trace of bitterness. She must’ve seen the horror on Merlin’s face at what he’d said and presumed. “Don’t worry about it, Bennett. Alls I know is when shit goes wrong like that, it kinda makes it easier to see when it’s going right around you. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but boy, he’s got it bad for you. If I were you, I wouldn’t let that opportunity run away.”

“Damn the consequences then?” Merlin asked, his conversation with Morgana echoing back to him.

“Totally. Keep it real, Bennett.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Merlin said kindly. He snuck her the last sugar cookie he’d grabbed on the way out from the flat. She beamed at him and thanked him before hurrying off to find a table in the full cafeteria.

“You’re blushing like a school girl, Merlin,” Arthur said in his ear, making him jump and drop his ladle on the ground. “Did the girl say something to get your knickers all wet?”

“Fuck off, Arthur,” Merlin said good-naturedly, searching for a fresh ladle. Arthur held one out under his nose.

“What’d she say?”

“Why’s it matter?”

“Tell me and I’ll give you the ladle,” Arthur said.

“That’s not fair—we’re holding up the line!”

“Tell me faster, then.”

“We were discussing how much of a prat you are,” Merlin said. “She told me to dump your ass and go home to my cold, dingy flat.”

Arthur didn’t falter, and perhaps that’s what gave him away to Merlin.

“And?”

“Well, Morgana’s here now, so I thought, maybe I should, once the school gives me my crap back,” Merlin said, sidling up to Arthur, trapping him between a table and a wall. Arthur clamped down on the ladle and pushed it out of Merlin’s reach. “Then I said, nah. Arthur’s bed’s really soft and warm.”

Merlin lunged for the ladle, but Arthur was quicker. Before Merlin could so much as blink he found himself trapped between Arthur and the wall, chest to chest, with Arthur twirling the ladle in his hand.

“Give me the ladle, Arthur,” Merlin said, reaching. Arthur raised it over his head. “Come on—”

“You’re gonna have to try harder if you really want my ladle, Merlin,” Arthur said gleefully. “Reach for it! Yeah. That’s it. Grab at it.”

Merlin blushed brightly, much to Arthur’s amusement. He jabbed Arthur between the ribs and reached for it, but Arthur was too damn good at this.

“Arthur—”

“Quit flirting,” Morgana said, walking by with a fresh ray of lasagna. “Break’s over and there’s a massive group coming in from the shelter a few blocks up that ran out of food.”

“Where are we getting all this from?”

“Johnny’s Diner’s providing it,” Morgana said. Merlin took his chance and snatched the ladle out of Arthur’s grip. Arthur’s jaw dropped.

“Why you—”

“What is it, Arthur?” he asked innocently.

“You’re _not_ sleeping in my bed tonight,” he grumbled as they put on fresh gloves. Several of the women on the other side of the glass exchanged looks and laughed. Merlin served them their food and ignored Arthur staunchly.

“Don’t let his attitude get to you, honey,” one older woman said. “He’ll change his mind in a few hours.”

“Hours? Minutes if you take him into the storage room during your next break,” the next woman in line said. She grinned wickedly at Merlin’s sputtering.

Merlin deliberately kept his face forward and avoided Arthur’s eye for the rest of the day. Thankfully, two hours later, the lunch shift ended and they left the shelter. Morgana nearly stayed back, but Arthur convinced her to go with them.

“You don’t have to worry anymore. I swear. You’ll be safe with me,” he said quietly. Morgana, awed into silence for once, nodded and let Arthur lead her out of the shelter.

They walked slowly through the irregular streets of downtown, stopping to peer into shop windows. Eventually they found themselves at a tearoom full of products from England, much to everyone’s delight. They stayed there drinking tea, chatting with the owners (other ex-pats, though none of them banished from the motherland by Uther Pendragon) until the shop closed early, just before dinner.

While Morgana and Arthur ducked into one of the few open shops they passed, Merlin borrowed Arthur’s phone.

“Hello?”

“Mum? It’s Merlin,” he said, sitting on the curb of the empty street.

“Merlin! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days. I’ve been worried sick. What happened?”

“I locked my stuff in the school by accident, phone included,” he said sheepishly. “I’m okay, though. I’m staying with a friend. He’s from London, too.”

“Oh? I’m glad to hear it, love. You don’t talk much about your friends.”

“I haven’t got many, you know that.”

“Well, this one must be quite fond of you then,” she said. Merlin could hear the grin in her words. “Not everyone would take someone in like this for so long.”

“Arthur’s different,” he said before he could stop himself. “I mean—he’s good. Really good. He’s a bit lonely here too, mum. I think it’s good we found each other.”

“I’m glad,” she said warmly. “Kilgarrah sends his love.”

“Same,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m well enough, Merlin.”

“Something tells me—”

“I can’t explain it all now, love, but I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather lately. The physicians don’t see anything wrong. I’m going to go see a specialist in a few days about some medications.”

“What’s—”

“Don’t worry yourself. Go enjoy Christmas. Call me when you get your phone back, yes?”

“Mum, don’t do this. Talk to me.” Merlin’s voice cracked.

“It’s not our money we’re spending on the call, love. It can wait.”

“Mum—”

“Happy Christmas, Merlin.”

She hung up, leaving a trail of poorly disguised sadness across the Atlantic. Merlin stared at the phone in his hand stupidly until Arthur nudged him with his boot.

“Something wrong?” Arthur asked when Merlin didn’t respond to his prodding.

“My mum’s—oh, never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what really happened with your sister, then? Or to you?  People around your father don’t just magically end up in the States by choice, from what I’ve observed,” Merlin said suddenly, dropping his voice. He pushed the phone against Arthur’s chest and covered it with Arthur’s hand.

“I—I want—Merlin, not now. We’ll talk when we get back, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I swear.”

Merlin regarded him warily until Morgana returned with a crisp shopping bag. She looked delighted.

“Shall we go?”

\---

They picked up some things from the supermarket and Merlin cooked dinner, as promised, with Morgana’s help. It turned out she was fairly handy in the kitchen, quite the opposite of her brother. Arthur made tea and retreated to the DVD shelf while they made desserts as the dinner cooked in the oven. They talked about this and that, but at the end of the day, Merlin liked Morgana, got on well with her, even, but they had little common ground between them beyond Arthur.

So Morgana told him all about Arthur’s childhood, and when Arthur realized what was happening, it was too late.

“You didn’t—” Arthur started, bounding across the flat.

“You got stuck in a _tree_? By your pants?” Merlin said, laughing uproariously. Morgana smirked.

“It was an accident!” he said, his face reddening hotly. “You’re the one who got your toy stuck in the branches!”

“Yes, and then Leon was the one who actually got it out!”

“How long were you up there?” Merlin asked.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Sixteen hours,” Morgana said promptly. “I took photos. I haven’t got them anymore—”

“I do,” Arthur said abruptly. He disappeared and returned with the box Merlin had seen him take out from under his bed. He rifled through until, still bright red in the face, he pulled one out and handed it to Morgana. Merlin craned his neck to see the image.

Morgana, though, folded it up and tucked it in the pocket of her jeans.

“That’s not fair!”

“I’ll respect the man’s wishes, in return for finding the picture,” Morgana said. Her eyes looked brighter than usual. Arthur left to replace the box, and in that time the dinner finished cooking. Morgana set out the food while Merlin finished up the desserts.

They ate in comfortable silence before deciding to settle into a movie. Arthur picked out _Love, Actually_.

“That’s a Valentine’s Day movie,” Morgana frowned.

“Not strictly,” Merlin said happily. He hugged a pillow to his chest and settled into his preferred corner of the couch. Arthur sat down between them, leaning slightly toward Merlin’s end, and started the movie.

Halfway through the film, Morgana asked to borrow Arthur’s phone and retreated to the guest room for a long time. Merlin was tucked against Arthur’s side when she left, and when she returned they were a mess on the couch, half asleep, tangled within each other’s personal space bubbles. Apparently that had ceased to be an issue for them during that week. Morgana took them for sleeping and turned off the movie. She tucked a blanket around them and went back to her room.

Arthur roused eventually, his movement shaking Merlin to alertness. He unpeeled himself from Arthur’s chest and sat up. Arthur’s arm was still around him, and the absence of Arthur’s body made him cold all over. Merlin shivered.

“Let’s go to bed,” Arthur said tiredly, rubbing his eyes. Merlin padded along in Arthur’s wake. When they reached the room and Arthur closed the door, Arthur’s demeanor changed entirely.

“What?” Merlin asked, perched on the edge of the bed.

“I, uh. I have something for you,” Arthur said hurriedly. He practically ran to his closet and pulled out that same box from before. Instead of a photo, he pulled out an old medallion and put it in Merlin’s hand. “It was my mother’s.”

His mother’s, who’d died giving birth to Arthur, according to Morgana. Merlin gulped.

“Arthur, I can’t take this from you—”

“It’s a gift. It’s not much. She loved medieval things, like you,” Arthur said softly. “I wanted to give something to you for Christmas anyway.”

“I don’t have anything for you. I’m sorry.”

“Your company’s generous enough. Trust me.”

The warmth and unusual amount of sincerity in Arthur’s words made Merlin blush to the roots of his hairline. He turned the medallion over in his hands. It was certainly old and valuable, at least to a medieval history nut like him. The gesture, though, was a thousand times more valuable to Merlin than anything.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to Arthur’s cheek before his nerve left him.

“Thanks, for everything,” he said, hovering close. Arthur exhaled slowly.

“You too.”

Arthur rose and went into the bathroom wordlessly. Merlin placed the medallion carefully on the nightstand near his side of the bed—oh, god, it was _his_ side now?—and curled into the warmth. He fell asleep easily, but not without noticing Arthur climbing in and settling close enough for his breath to warm the back of his neck.

\---

Arthur was waiting when Merlin woke the next morning. He was still in bed, resting, but his eyes were trained on him, half-lidded and tired, but surrounded by a curve of unique happiness that only the company of another person could foster.

“Hey,” Merlin said. He sat up.

“Hi,” Arthur smiled.

“Have you been up long?”

“Not really. I figured… you wanted to know about why I’m here,” Arthur said, sitting up against the headboard. He propped the pillow up behind his back. “I didn’t want to put it off any longer.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

Arthur laughed. “Yes, that’s not news.”

“Shut up. Tell me the story.”

“It’s not much of a story,” he said, any joy on his face twisting into a grimace. “After the whole debacle with Morgause and Morgana trying to steal our fortune, Father disowned her and left her penniless. I’d followed them to where they were living with one of Morgause’s friends, a rather sleazy bloke with long hair. I don’t know who he was. It hardly matters. I… I was angry, but I wanted to talk to them, see what happened, since Father had refused to hear Morgana out. I took all the money in the account Uther set aside for me—don’t look at me like that, Merlin; I can’t help what kind money he made—and I went to see them. There was a lot of shouting and misunderstanding, and I kept offering the money to them, hoping they’d see I was serious, but it didn’t really work. I got a couple of words through to Morgana before I left the cash with her. Morgause chased me out and I tripped and hurt my back. Father had to get me from the A&E. He was furious.”

Arthur paused. “He didn’t tell me to leave, exactly. But he told me he was disappointed in me. I’d just come out around then, too, and he hadn’t taken it well,” he said with a frown. “I took the hint and told him I’d go to a school in the States. He looked happy, like I’d finally understood him, after all those years of trying to make him happy.”

“Arthur….”

“Just—let me finish? I don’t talk about this,” Arthur said, deliberately avoiding Merlin’s eye. He nodded. “It hurt to leave, but I think it was the best thing I ever did. I found my footing here. I wouldn’t’ve gotten to study history if I’d stayed in England. Father sends me money for the flat and tuition, but I’m on my own in a way I’d never have been back in London. It’s like I finally got my turn at living my own life, you know?”

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded, even though it was only half-true. His mother was kind and accepting, no matter what Merlin did.

“So… that’s how I came here,” Arthur finished rather lamely.

“Is that why Morgana’s so keen on you now?” Merlin asked. “You helped her when you didn’t need to, and look what it cost you.”

“I told her, and I’ll tell you, too: it didn’t cost me anything. It got me my life, in the end,” Arthur said, turning his gaze on Merlin. There was that rare, heartbreaking sincerity again. Merlin swallowed dryly. “Now. Your turn. What happened on the phone yesterday?”

“Oh. My mother’s ill, apparently.”

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked. His complacent demeanor shifted into tense worry.

“She didn’t tell me. She said she wasn’t feeling well, and that the doctors didn’t know what was wrong. She said she was going to see a specialist soon about some medications,” Merlin explained. His eyes were burning, all of a sudden. “She’s never been sick before, not like this, and she won’t damn tell me anything.”

“Why not?”

“Said it wasn’t my money we were using to talk. That’s a piss poor excuse, if you ask me. She’s probably been hiding it for a while, and she’s probably working up to telling me it’s something horrible like cancer or MS,” Merlin went on, finding that air was coming in short supply. “We can’t afford that. We don’t have money; it all goes to me being here. We can’t—I can’t lose her now, though, not when I’m almost done here. I can’t—”

“Merlin!”

Arthur was suddenly there at his side, his hands tight on his arms, his face inches from Merlin’s. He gave him a light shake and his breathing started to even out again. Merlin shut his eyes.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just… breathe.”

“It hurts, though.”

“Well, push through. Do it for me. Focus on me,” Arthur said. His voice was so smooth, so even. Merlin let his voice be his metronome. Arthur talked on and on about something stupid, like snow angels, until Merlin relaxed under his grip and let his head fall back against the headboard.

“Thanks,” he said.

“We can call her again later, if you’d like,” Arthur offered. “I don’t give a damn about my mobile charges.”

“I’d rather not,” Merlin said with a weak laugh. “I’ll find out soon. Can we just… enjoy the rest of the break?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I do,” he said, looking Arthur in the eye. Arthur let go and sat back.

“Tell me what you want to do then. We’ll do whatever you like,” he said.

“Let’s just… go back to bed?” Merlin asked hopefully. He expected Arthur to roll his eyes and throw a pillow at him, but Arthur nodded and rearranged their pillows. He lied down right next to Merlin and pulled him into the space beside him. Arthur wrapped his arm around him and let Merlin settle his head on his shoulder. He could almost feel his heartbeat through his chest.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I’ve got you, haven’t I?”

Arthur did nothing but stroke his arm absently until Merlin fell back asleep.

\---

Morgana was reading by the fire when Merlin and Arthur emerged from the bedroom in the middle of the afternoon.

“That was the quietest shag ever,” Morgana said by way of greetings.

“There was no shag, Morgana,” Arthur said, dropping a pillow on her book and ignoring her sputtering. “Your twisted little mind is playing games with you.”

“Whatever you say, brother.”

Morgana fished the book out and put it on the floor, closed, without a bookmark. She sat up.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she announced.

“What?” Arthur said. “Why?”

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” she said, “but there are matters I’ve got to deal with now. Consequences and such.”

She shot Merlin a quick glance.

“I’m going to see Uther. I spoke to him yesterday and he’s booked a flight for me. I’ll probably come back here in a few days, if that’s all right with you,” Morgana said. “I only want to set some matters straight.”

Arthur looked stunned into silence.

“That’s… wow, that’s great,” Merlin said quickly. “Be careful, yeah?”

“Of course,” Morgana said with a wide grin. “You’ll be all right without me, I think.”

“Are you sure about this?” Arthur asked.

“I am,” Morgana stated. “You won’t be able to stop me.”

“I know that,” Arthur said lightly. “I only worry for Father’s sanity.”

“Fair enough,” she conceded.

Morgana’s leaving was a quiet affair, in the end. They ordered in Indian food for dinner before going out to see a movie. Merlin picked out a new flick about alien invaders, which Arthur grudgingly admitted to enjoying about an hour after the movie ended. Morgana had a look of nonspecific happiness plastered on her face the whole night, which, to Merlin, was only a mask for her nerves regarding seeing Uther again. He gave her a hug before turning in and told her it’d be okay.

“You’re always welcome at my flat. It’s a shithole.”

“I’m sure it’s better than some places I’ve been. Thank you, Merlin. You’re a good friend,” Morgana said, suddenly serious. She kissed his cheek lightly and retreated to her room.

“I’m driving her to the airport in the morning,” Arthur said. “You’ll be okay on your own for a few hours?”

“I’m not an invalid, Arthur,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes as they climbed into bed. Arthur poked him in the stomach, which made him burst into laughter. They quickly degenerated into a tickle fight, which turned into a pillow fight, which ended in wrestling and hair-pulling and general squabbling. Merlin hit the pillows grinning madly, and so did Arthur. They were out of breath, half on top of each other, but there wasn’t an awkward thing about it.

“You’re _really_ ticklish,” Merlin said, touching one particularly sensitive spot on Arthur’s left side. Arthur grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

“Don’t.”

“Yes, sire.”

“I mean it, Merlin.”

Something in the tone of his voice made something stir in Merlin. He became suddenly hyperaware of their proximity, of how close Arthur was holding his fingers to his mouth, to how easy it would be to reach out and touch him, or even to kiss him. Hell, he was close enough to do a lot more than just kiss him.

All of a sudden, doing _more_ was all Merlin wanted to do. He hungered, thirsted, yearned—all at once, he was lacking, and Arthur was _right there_ , everything he could ever want.

It was bloody terrifying.

So he dragged himself away and put a few more inches between them. Arthur stiffened ever so slightly before settling into his pillow with a sigh.

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

Arthur hesitated.

“Good night.”

“Night, Arthur.”

He rolled toward him, allowing him just that one bit of closeness, and kept his eyes shut. Still, he could feel Arthur’s gaze on him, and the sweetness of his smile as he burrowed close and his hair brushed Merlin’s nose.

Arthur’s hands tickled him at his hips, and Merlin yelped.

“Arthur!” he gasped.

He howled with laughter.

“Good night, _Mer_ lin,” he said, turning over and dragging most of the covers around him. Merlin yanked some back, only for Arthur to drag him over so they were lying back to back. Merlin huffed and let it be, let Arthur’s warmth come to him.

\---

It was freezing and quiet when Merlin woke the next morning. He showered and dressed, grabbed toast in his mouth, and dug up his metrocard as he rode the elevator down. He rode all the way up to school and went right to the library where a sleepy security guard was nursing a tall thermos of coffee.

“Hi. I left my wallet and keys here before the break,” Merlin said. “Have you got them in the lost and found?”

The guard slid the box to him and went back to his coffee. There, among a few hats and scarves and one other sad-looking mobile, were his phone, wallet, and keys, all bundled together by a shoestring. Merlin thanked him and headed straight for his flat.

He hadn’t missed the five-story walk-up, nor the smell of rotted cabbage in the hall. Merlin could see his breath as he moved about the flat and packed up various books and clean articles of clothing into a duffle bag. He gave it one last look and happily left it behind for a few more days.

On his way back, he stopped and bought a box of donuts.

It was unnerving how much he felt like Arthur’s flat was _home_ rather than the flat in which he’d live for two or three years. He walked out of the elevator and was struck with worry that perhaps Arthur would finally decide he’d overstayed his welcome, after all this time. It’d been nine days already.

Annis was hanging up a fresh wreath on her door when he reached her.

“That’s lovely,” Merlin said. She started and turned around, and her face flooded with relief.

“Oh, thank god. Go tell Arthur to stop worrying, will you, Merlin?” she said. “He’s been running a hole in his floor for the last hour.”

“Er. Okay?”

Merlin knocked on the door and waited hardly more than a second before Arthur wrenched it open. He looked a little crazed, his hair sticking up, his cheeks still bitten red by the cold, but, god, if he didn’t look beautiful like that—Merlin felt the last of his sanity slip away.

“Merlin,” he breathed. He shifted from relieved to angry in a half-second. He grabbed Merlin by the scruff of his jacket collar and dragged him into the flat.

“Hey! Let go!”

“You—where the hell were you?”

“I went up to get my things from school! It’s the twenty-seventh!” Merlin said, rubbing his neck. He unwound his scarf and threw it in Arthur’s scowling face.

“You did what?”

“I got my things,” Merlin said slowly, holding up his phone and wallet. His keys were buried in his bag, where Arthur’s eyes ended up resting. “Uh. I grabbed my stuff, if you’ll still let me stay ‘til New Year’s.”

“Wait, really? You weren’t leaving?”

“Leaving? Why would I do that?” Merlin asked.

“I thought—”

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, if you’re not done with me already.”

“You’re a friend, Merlin, not a plaything,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, but would you get trapped in a tree for sixteen hours if I were stuck up there?” Merlin grinned. “Seems like you only do that for toys.”

Arthur shrugged, but he was smiling all the same.

“Morgana’s gone?” Merlin asked.

“Yep. She got on her flight a few hours ago. Are those donuts?” Arthur asked suddenly. Merlin handed him the box and finished taking of his coat. Arthur moaned happily. “You know the way to a man’s heart, Merlin.”

“Or stomach. Maybe it’s just _your_ heart.”

Arthur handed him a donut as he sat down beside him.

“What’ll we do today?”

“Anything,” Arthur said. “I’m—I’m just glad you’re here.”

Merlin turned to him. “I am, too.”

They ended up going to the Met and spending most of their time in the Greek and Roman galleries, marveling at how small the reconstructed penises were and how bulky some of the male statues were.

“It’s so disproportionate,” Arthur remarked.

“Disappointing, too, for whoever got access to that, if he was real,” Merlin added.

“Size complex, Merlin? I didn’t think you so vain.”

“What?” he said. “I’ve got simple needs.”

“And a big cock is one of them?”

“I don’t think it’s good to complain about that. It might anger some of the gods,” Merlin said gravely. Arthur snorted. “Oh, god, this one’s even worse! Look how little it is!”

And so it went on until the museum closed and the ended up crossing Central Park as darkness fell on the city and every light came alive. It was too cold for it to be truly crowded, but there were people out, enjoying the fact that the weather had calmed down. Some college students were using cafeteria trays to sled down the snowdrifts.

Arthur raised his eyebrows at Merlin, and then Merlin called out, “Hey! Can we borrow one?”

They looked confused, but they handed a tray over.

By the time they got home, they were dripping and freezing, but hot from the activity and excitement. Arthur immediately dragged out the last of his liquor and split it between them. They changed into dry clothes and just drank and drank until all they felt was _warm_ and fuzzy.

Somehow they made it to bed without throwing up, and somehow Merlin managed to keep his hands—his everything, really—to himself. He was proud, in the morning, even if he felt hungover as hell.

“Oh, god, let’s not do that again,” Arthur moaned, rolling over onto Merlin.

“Not even on New Year’s? That’s the whole point of the holiday,” Merlin said.

“Are you still drunk, Merlin?”

“Hope not.”

After several cups of coffee, they ended up back at the women’s shelter doling out food for the rest of the day. They returned in the evening exhausted, and Arthur’s phone was loaded with messages from Morgana about her return. She insisted on Merlin coming to the airport with Arthur, for some reason, so the next morning Merlin woke bright and early with Arthur, only to fall right back asleep as soon as they got into the car. Arthur let some soft music play through his fancy speakers, and it only made him more tired.

“Merlin. _Merlin_.”

“What?” Merlin moaned. Arthur shook his shoulder gently.

“We’re here. Come on. The flight got in early.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very,” Arthur said with a soft laugh. “You can go back to sleep on the way back, if you’d like.”

“Oh, fine, but Morgana’d better be happy I came.”

Arthur just shook his head as Merlin got out of the car. He started to slip on the ice. Arthur’s steady arms caught and set him right. Arthur smirked.

“I’m starting to think you really are a damsel in distress.”

“You’re a piss poor knight, then.”

“Why’s that?”

“You didn’t kiss me awake!”

Arthur threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Merlin wondered just how serious Arthur was. The moment he saw Morgana come through the doors of the terminal into the waiting area, though, he forgot about everything entirely, everything except for the other two people at her side.

He was running before he even realized it, throwing his whole body into his mother’s arms. Gwen beside her kept Hunith upright and rubbed Merlin’s shoulder patiently.

“Mum,” Merlin said over and over through tears he couldn’t seem to stop from flowing. “Mum, how are you here?”

“It’s a long story, love,” she said, squeezing him tight, but nowhere nearly as tightly as she’d been able to in the past. “Gwen’s been so good to me, making sure I’m all right.”

Merlin broke away to look at her. He pulled her into a hug, into wordless thanks that she understood a million times over.

“How did you—?”

“I ran into them at Father’s place,” Morgana said. Merlin twisted toward her. “Gaius has been running his practice out of Father’s Central London flat, actually, and Father wanted to meet me there. I started talking to Hunith and Gwen, and, well, it’s a vey small world, I’d say.”

“But… why are you here?”

Morgana’s face sobered instantly.

“It’s a long story,” his mother said again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“I figured it was like that,” Merlin said, once he found his voice. “Is it cancer?”

She nodded sadly. “Nothing’s working. They referred me to the big cancer center here.”

“When Morgana heard we were supposed to come here too she had her father help us all out,” Gwen interjected. “It was the kindest thing I’d ever seen him do.”

Morgana nodded. She put her hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Will you be okay?” she asked, her eyes worried, the lines around her mouth tight.  

“I think so. You’re here now,” Merlin said, turning back to his mother. “That’s all that matters.”

\---

The car ride back was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. It started snowing lightly about halfway over the bridge. Merlin wanted more than anything to talk to his mother, figure out what was wrong, but all that came out was,

“Where’s Kilgarrah?”

She laughed.

“I left him with Gaius for while I’m here,” she replied. “He kindly offered.”

“He’ll be regretting that soon,” Merlin said. “How long will you be here?”

“Just a few days. Gwen needs to get back to school soon. I’m only here for a consultation,” she explained. Merlin looked across his mother at Gwen and tried to convey his gratitude again.

They arrived at the hotel where Gwen and Hunith were staying. It was within walking distance of the cancer center, thankfully, as were several places for breakfast food, and a Starbucks in the lobby, much to Gwen’s delight.

“I’ve become a bit of a coffee addict,” she confessed to Merlin while his mother checked them in. “Uni’s been very tiring.”

“I hear that,” he muttered.

“You look… well.”

“Hardly,” he snorted. “You look good, though.”

“It’s been three years, nearly four,” she said sadly, “and this is all we can say?”

Merlin shook his head. “It’s been a long four years.”

“We stopped by Will’s spot, left some flowers for you,” she said gently. “I hope you were okay.”

“I had finals. Arthur picked me up out of a snow bank,” he shrugged. Gwen leaned close.

“He’s rather fit, isn’t he?”

“I suppose,” Merlin said, deliberately looking away.

“Oh, I know you do,” Gwen giggled. “I don’t think you’ve changed that much, Merlin. Have you shagged him yet?”

“Gwen!”

“What?” she said innocently.

“No! He’s—he’s my friend, and hardly at that! We didn’t even talk much before the break started,” Merlin rambled. “I like him a lot, but I wouldn’t want to mess this up.”

“Oh, love. It’s probably a lot simpler than that,” Gwen said. “I’ve been here, what, two hours now? It’s bloody obvious to anyone with eyes that he’s over the moon for you.”

Arthur was at the desk with Hunith apparently negotiating a better room. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to just… shag and let things get awkward,” Merlin said. “I need him around. As a friend. He’s a good friend.”

“Smooth save,” she said flatly. “Morgana’s already told us all about how lovely you both are together, how you make each other happier. She said she’d never seen Arthur so comfortable in his own skin than when he’s around you. What do you make of that?”

“I—I don’t know.”

Gwen grinned triumphantly. Morgana lighted onto the armrest of Gwen’s chair suddenly and pulled her into a one-armed hug. Apparently they’d bonded quite a bit on the plane ride.

“Merlin, go help Arthur and your mother,” she said. “I want a word with Gwen.”

He went without protest. Arthur was saying something that made his mother laugh. Merlin felt all apprehension slip away, and feeling any felt rather silly all of a sudden.

“What’re you talking about?” he asked.

“You, of course,” Arthur said, flashing him a bright grin. “Hunith was telling me about your days in dance classes.”

“Mum!”

“Oh, hush, Merlin. It makes a good story,” she said, slapping his arm lightly.

“Mum,” Merlin moaned. “Seriously?”

“I do hope there are photos of little Merlin in a kilt, Hunith.”

“I’ll send some over once I get home,” she said, eyes twinkling happily in a way Merlin hadn’t seen for far too long. A man appeared behind the desk and handed Arthur the room keys. They grabbed Gwen and Morgana and piled into the elevator with their bags, riding it all the way to the top floor. Arthur opened up the door to one of the suites and revealed a massive room with the most stunning views of the city Merlin had ever seen. It was even better than Arthur’s flat. Gwen sputtered and thanked Arthur, and his mother simply kissed his cheek and retreated to the bathroom.

“I’m going to stay and talk with her,” Merlin told Arthur, pulling him aside. Morgana and Gwen were making plans for later. “She didn’t seem to walk to discuss it all in front of everyone.”

“Of course. Are you going to stay with her until she leaves?”

Merlin considered it.

“I’ll see her as much as I can,” he said, “but I’d rather stay with you.”

Arthur’s face split into a relieved grin. He shook his head. “I’m starting to wonder what I’ll do without you,” he said quietly. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat.

“Me, too,” he said hoarsely.

They sprang apart when the door opened and Hunith joined them again.

“Right,” Arthur said, clearing his throat. “Come on, Morgana. We’ll see them later. Give us a ring when you want to get dinner.”

“See you,” Merlin said with a small wave. Arthur threw him a small, reassuring smile over his shoulder.

 Morgana and Arthur left silence behind them. Gwen excused herself to shower, leaving Merlin and his mother finally alone. They settled in, and it all came out into the open. By the time they finished, it was dark, and Gwen was napping on her bed. Merlin’s eyes and throat felt too dry, and he thought he’d wrung his hands into some twisted imitations of fingers and joints. His mother covered them with her own, warm and worn, and squeezed until he relaxed.

“I’ll be okay, however this turns out,” she said. She looked so much older, Merlin realized.

“I don’t want it to go badly.”

“No one does. But we need to be brave, no matter what way it goes. Can you promise me that?”

“I’ll try,” Merlin sighed. He felt exhausted.

“Arthur’ll be with you. He’ll keep your spirits up, I think,” Hunith said, that twinkle returning to her eye.

“He’s a good friend. He’d help any of his friends out like that.”

“Don’t sell him short, love. He cares about you, and I think he needs you as much as you need him,” she said.

“You’re the third person to tell me something like that.”

“If it’s true….”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you do,” she said simply. “When you end up where I am, you learn to stop deceiving yourself, unless it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t make me feel better,” Merlin realized.

“Then you’ve got your truth, there.”

Merlin’s phone rang. Gwen stirred and sat up, looking adorably confused and very much like she had when they were children together.

“Hello?”

“Merlin. We’ve made dinner. Bring everyone over, will you?” Arthur said.

“What, no please?”

“Just do it,” he said. He could hear the exasperation in his voice. Merlin grinned and hung up.

Half an hour later, they were at Arthur’s flat where he, Morgana, and Annis put together a rather impressive spread. Merlin did his best to enjoy himself, especially since his mother seemed so damn happy, and Morgana was finally at ease and laughing, but it was all a little too much to handle. He stuck it out until the food and wine ran out and they put Gwen and Hunith in a cab with promises from Merlin of meeting them the next morning to go to the appointment. When Merlin got back up to the flat, he collapsed on the couch and pulled a pillow over his face.

He exhaled. Someone sat on the other end of the couch and moved his feet into their lap. Their legs were soft.

“Morgana,” Merlin mumbled. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, dropping the pillow over the side of the couch. He looked around. Arthur’s shower was running.

“Go on.”

“Was it really Uther’s idea to help my mum out like this? He doesn’t know her from the next poor woman on the street, and he definitely doesn’t seem the charitable type.”

Morgana bit her lip.

“I’d called Arthur to let him know what had happened, and I mentioned them. He called Uther at some point and told him to step in,” Morgana explained quietly. “I relayed all the info back to him once it was set. Are you upset about this?”

“Not… this,” he said, waving at Morgana. “Am I upset that my mum’s probably only got one more good year left in her? Yeah. She’s all I have.”

Morgana dragged him into her arms and hugged him tightly.

“We’ll help you however we can.”

“You’re homeless and unemployed.”

“You’re a uni student living on below minimum wage,” Morgana said warningly. “I’m perceptive, Merlin.”

“Of course you are,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t take charity, though. I’d hate myself for it. I can support her myself. I’ll… quit school, and get next term’s tuition back. I’ll get a proper job. I’ll go home.”

“You’ll give up your degree? You’re nearly done.”

“I can’t—not when she could be gone by the time I’m finished here,” Merlin said. “I need to take care of her.”

“What did she say?”

“I haven’t said any of this to her,” Merlin said.

“Well, see what she wants. Maybe she wants you to stay here.”

“She’d—”

“She’d want you to respect her wishes, especially if they’re among her last,” Morgana said firmly.

“Did you talk to her about this already?” he asked suspiciously.

“We may have chatted on the plane,” she said breezily. “She wanted to be sure you wouldn’t do anything rash and noble on her part.”

“I just don’t understand where the money for all the treatments is coming from. She wouldn’t tell me,” Merlin said.

“I don’t know about that,” Morgana said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No. I’m sorry all this happened now, right when… well, things seemed to be looking up for us,” Morgana said. “I like you and Arthur and your life here. You both make me happy.”

“I think Gwen makes you happy too.”

“She’s lovely. She makes me smile,” Morgana said kindly. “I wish we could be better friends. You’re lucky to have her.”

“We haven’t seen each other since we finished secondary.”

“She did tell me about that last year,” Morgana said cautiously. “You’ve had a tough time of it.”

“Yeah, well, we keep moving on, don’t we?”

“We find the things that make us happy,” she nodded.

“It sounds serious out there,” Arthur called from the bedroom. “Should I be worried?”

“Merlin and I are eloping,” Morgana called. “Sorry to break it to you.”

Arthur yelped, and something large crashed to the floor. They curled up on the couch in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Arthur emerged red in the face, but grinning all the same. He scooped Merlin up off the couch and pulled him to the bedroom.

“Oi!”

“I’m kidnapping you.”

“Morgana, my love. He’s taking me away from you!” Merlin shouted dramatically.

“I don’t mind,” she said sweetly. Her eyes widened. “Oh, boys. Why don’t you look up over your heads?”

It must have been comical, the looks on their faces when they saw the mistletoe hanging in the doorway that most certainly hadn’t been there that morning.

“Morgana—,” Arthur started.

“No pressure,” she smirked.

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, not certain whether it would be in protest or not, but Arthur swept in and kissed him before a sound could escape. It was a bit overdramatic, clearly for Morgana’s sake, but after a moment, Merlin was kissing him back, and any joke in it promptly drained away. It was heated, but not so much that Merlin needed desperately to tear Arthur’s clothes off with his teeth, and it was just sweet and pure enough to leave him bereft, thirsty, wanting, when Arthur finally pulled back. He had to stop himself from going back in for more.

It’d been a kiss under the mistletoe, nothing more. For now, it had to be.

“Wow,” Morgana said, startling them both back to reality. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Go away, Morgana,” Arthur said, scowling. He unconsciously reached for his pink, pink lips before whipping his hand back to his side.

“Merlin, love, are we still eloping?” she asked sweetly. God, the woman was pure evil, Merlin decided.

“Merlin’s going to bed now. He has to get up early, you hag,” Arthur said.

“What? _I_ wasn’t going to keep him up all night!”

Merlin snorted at that as Arthur shut the door a little too loudly behind them. He pushed Merlin onto the bed and climbed in on the other side. They’d gotten used to sleeping close together, and waking tangled in each other, but suddenly there was a wall between them.

“Arthur…. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Merlin,” he said. “Are you?”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Merlin said.

“I… heard you talking to Morgana. Are you really going to leave school?” he asked. There was a barely concealed tremor in his voice that betrayed the stiffness of his body.  

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “I’d do it, if it meant being able to keep my mum healthy.”

“I’d do the same,” Arthur said.

“But—is that terrible? That I don’t really want to go?” Merlin asked. “I think I’m finally happy here.”

Arthur hummed, then asked,

“Why’d you leave England?”

“I didn’t fit in much there anymore. Things just… changed. After Will died, everything went to hell,” Merlin said. “I needed a change, some place I could fit in a little better.”

“Do you think you’ve found that?” Arthur asked. Merlin turned on his side and looked over. Arthur was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Merlin did everything in his power not to reach out and trace the moonlight on his face.

“Maybe. Yeah.”

“Good,” Arthur said, looking at him. The soft fondness in his eyes was startling. Merlin found himself drawn to it, drawn to Arthur, more than ever before. He stopped, pulled back, but Arthur caught him there, pulled him into his arms.

“We’re going to help each other out,” he said softly into Merlin’s ear. His breath tickled his skin. Merlin absently stroked the soft cotton of his shirt on his stomach.

“We can do that. I want that.”

“Same.”

“I’m glad. And… I don’t want you to go either, while we’re being girls and talking about feelings and such,” Arthur said hastily. “I’d rather you stayed.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“You didn’t have to say it. I know you pretty well, remember?”

“Huh. I suppose you do,” Arthur conceded. “Go to sleep, Merlin. It’s going to be a long couple of days.”

“Months, really,” Merlin muttered. Sleep was already digging its claws into him and swallowing him down. Darkness pressed in, but Arthur was there, his knight, his friend, to stand tall with him, and that was all that mattered.

\---

Gwen and Morgana quickly became inseparable, now that Merlin was looking after Hunith most of the time. Merlin spent the majority of the next few days with his mother at the cancer center, speaking to doctors. When he was back at Arthur’s flat, he was using his laptop to read up on her diagnosis. All the while, Merlin scrounged up whatever money he had, in case he could use it to help her in any way at all, even though there was certainly a pile of bills waiting in his mailbox at his flat.

The physicians at the center were going to consider her for an experimental drug trial, but if that didn’t work out, they could only advise her to get comfortable. The risk of operation was too high, and continuing chemotherapy would only weaken her on a whole and make her even more susceptible to the cancer’s grip.

“It’s better than nothing,” Hunith said for the fiftieth time as she bid Merlin goodbye at the airport. Gwen and Morgana were on the side talking hurriedly and gripping each other fiercely. Perhaps friendship wasn’t as hard to foster as Merlin previously thought.

“I suppose. Call as soon as you hear from them?”

“Absolutely.”

He kissed her cheek and hugged her once more as the last call for the flight before theirs echoed through the busy terminal. It was the day before New Year’s Eve, and half of the city was in transit.

They waited until Gwen and his mother disappeared through the security booths. Arthur threw his arms around his and Morgana’s shoulders and led them out of the airport, going on about something or another. Merlin was only half paying attention. His excitement was enough to alleviate his sadness, but he still couldn’t focus. Morgana squeezed his hand when Arthur went to unlock the car.

“Got plans for New Year’s?” she asked as they buckled in.

“Er. No?”

“Let’s do something fun, then.”

“Like what?”

“Actually, did you get the email about the department holiday party?” Arthur interjected. Merlin made a face. He laughed. “You don’t want to go, then?”

“I’ll put off dealing with the other people in our program for a couple of more days, thanks.”

“Do you have any better ideas, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“I think I do!”

“You always do,” he rolled his eyes.

It turned out going to Times Square for New Year’s Eve was simultaneously a great idea and the most horrible idea ever. The crowd was impossible to navigate, so they ended up crammed against one of the metal barriers close to a speaker that continuously poured out shitty country music until shitty live performers came on stage. But they atmosphere was unbeatable. The electricity in the air was unlike anything they’d ever felt, and they were part of it. They were having a brilliant time, and they shouted and danced and jumped around like children, like the rest of the adult population of the city.

“What d’you usually do for New Year’s?” Merlin shouted at Arthur.

“Not much,” he shrugged. “I usually drink or go to a bar or a party.”

“The department party?”

“No,” but he blushed brightly anyway. Merlin laughed loudly.

“I’m usually working, and then I listen to this one song by Death Cab for Cutie on the way home from work, since I’m usually done after midnight.”

The crowd jostled them closer together. Arthur stumbled and gripped the barrier in front of Merlin, bracketing him with his arms. Merlin settled back into Arthur’s space, and Arthur comfortably slotted up behind him. He exhaled, and the warm air that rushed over the side of Merlin’s neck made his whole body weak.

Merlin glanced around; Morgana was a couple of feet down, chatting up a rather attractive bloke with very festive plastic glasses.

The whole crowd rapidly paired off, and the countdown started. The din of several thousand people shouting in unison shook Merlin to the core, reverberating between his ribs and right where the police barrier dug into his legs.

_Eight._

He wasn’t counting, and neither was Arthur. Frankly, Merlin wanted the moment to freeze, for time to stop, if only he and Arthur could stay like that forever and never have to go back to the way things were.

_Four._

His heart thudded in his chest loudly enough that he didn’t hear anything other than Arthur’s breathing right beside him. In that moment, Arthur was his entire world.

_Two._

He spun and Arthur was _right there_ , pink from the cold, warm from the excitement. His eyes met Merlin’s and he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Merlin kissed him on _One_ , a second too soon, and didn’t plan to let him go for a very long time. Arthur’s lips were slack with shock at first, but then he kissed back with so much vigor, his entire body coiling and reacting to Merlin’s touch so intensely that they nearly toppled over the barrier. He cupped his face and pulled their bodies flush, steady, even though their many layers of clothing kept them from feeling anything. Merlin’s mouth opened for him when his tongue brushed his lip and his whole body—hell, his whole world burned hot.

“God, Merlin,” Arthur murmured, detaching himself for only a moment before diving right back in.

Eventually, they were the only ones in their area still going at it, and the crowd was starting to thin out. Merlin hazily wondered where Morgana was, but Arthur’s lips found his for a soft, sweet kiss before taking a half-step back. He reached for him again, but his hands were trembling. His whole body was shaking, really, from the arousal, excitement, _Arthur_ —it was too much.

“We need to stop this,” Arthur said, a little out of breath. Merlin’s whole body went cold. _What?_ “This… kissing when Morgana throws mistletoe at us, or when it’s what we’re supposed to do. God—Merlin, I don’t want a bloody excuse. I want to kiss you whenever we want.”

Merlin’s eyes bugged out. He must’ve tried to say something, but Arthur clapped his hand over his mouth and shook his head. The sheer desperation on his face made Merlin swallow his words.

“I can’t hold this in any longer. I can’t stop thinking about you and having you around drives me mad, but I can’t imagine you leaving now. I don’t know how to go back to how things were before the break and I don’t know how things changed so much so fast, but they did, and you must think so, too.”

Merlin gaped.

“I’ll—it’s okay if you don’t,” Arthur said quickly. He took a full step away. “Just say so.”

“You’re a complete turniphead if you think I don’t,” Merlin said fiercely. He kissed him hard, backing him up right against the barrier again. Merlin steadied him this time. “Do you think you can you handle this?” he asked breathlessly.

“Is that a challenge, Emrys?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, if you want it to be.”

“Whatever it is, _this_ —I want it. I want you. That’s all I know,” Arthur stated with such terrifying certainty that Merlin’s jaw nearly dropped in awe. He kissed him once more before clumsily weaving his gloved fingers through Merlin’s. “Can you handle _that?_ ”

“Challenge accepted, Pendragon,” Merlin breathed.

Arthur looked around. “D’you see Morgana?”

“I think she’s eating that guy’s face,” Merlin said, pointing at two figures up against the wall of the nearest building. Arthur made a gagging noise.

“Morgana!” he shouted. She jumped away from the man and looked around furiously. “Oh, shit. She’ll murder me now.”

“She can get home on her own, yeah?” Merlin said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Impatient, are you?”

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” Merlin said, leaning close to Arthur’s face, “seeing you get out of the shower every morning with just that towel on.”

“You’re always sleeping, though,” he said, his voice broken.

“I’m pretending,” Merlin said softly, letting his lips brush Arthur’s jaw. He snaked his free hand around the bottom of Arthur’s jacket to his arse. Merlin could’ve sworn he heard Arthur whimper, so, naturally, he went to town with it. “Sometimes… once or twice I’ve gone in and had a nice long wank in the shower after seeing you like that. Sometimes I just can’t help it. I’ve got a pretty wild imagination.”

Arthur let out a very un-Arthur-like sound, and another one when Merlin gently pressed their hips together and their mutual hard-ons came into contact through their trousers. It was like electricity, and it was a miracle that Merlin didn’t come right on the spot.

“Bye, Morgana!” he shouted. “We’re going home.”

She said something about the morning and Merlin took it as their okay to go back and fuck on every surface of the flat. Arthur, with his mischievous and wide grin, seemed to think so as well.

\---

Merlin’s skin was on fucking _fire_ the moment they crossed the flat’s threshold. Jackets and scarves and gloves were flying everywhere. Somewhere below them another flat was having a loud party; the bass from whatever song they were playing shook their floors. Merlin promptly forgot all about it when Arthur’s hands untucked his shirt and found their way to his skin. He gasped and arched into his touch.

“Sensitive,” Arthur murmured, rubbing his thumb over his nipple over and over. Merlin made a halfway coherent sound before pushing Arthur backward over the arm of the couch onto the cushions. He dragged his shirt off.

“What?” he said, seeing the way Arthur was staring at him.

“Fuck, Merlin,” Arthur said, sitting up. Merlin straddled his hips and pushed him back onto the pillows. “Gorgeous. You’re bloody gorgeous, you know?”

Merlin kissed him deeply, letting his hips find Arthur’s and grind a little mindlessly against them. Merlin was still hard, and he could feel Arthur’s erection tenting his trousers, prodding him in the thigh. He ground down harder. Arthur moaned into his mouth and tugged at Merlin’s hair.

He practically tore the buttons on Arthur’s shirt away to get at the skin underneath.

“God. Finally,” Merlin said. He reveled in Arthur, basking in his glow—and he did _glow_ , in the dim moonlight coming in from outside. He looked too beautiful, almost unreal. Merlin touched him over and over, worshipped him with his mouth and tongue, to pay homage, to be certain he was truly there with him.

Arthur’s nipples were _very_ sensitive, Merlin learned.

He had Arthur moaning and bucking up against him almost uncontrollably by the time he decided to show some mercy.

“Bed?”

“Fuck yes,” Arthur breathed. He lunged and captured Merlin’s mouth in a sloppy kiss, all tongue, no finesse, and drove him off the couch. All the control Merlin had over him was in Arthur’s hands now, and it felt like sweet revenge. His fingers ghosted over the ticklish spots Arthur had discovered only a few nights ago, making Merlin writhe and respond too strongly.

Merlin stepped out of his trousers and left them at the door. Arthur didn’t even bother closing it behind them.

“What if Morgana—?”

“Don’t worry about it. She’ll be gone all night.”

“Arthur—”

“The thrill of getting caught makes it fun,” Arthur said in a low voice, lowering himself over Merlin, backing him into the middle of his massive bed. “Don’t you think?”

“Never took you for the kinky type,” Merlin gasped. Arthur mouthed at his throat.

“Hmm. Maybe it’s just with you, then.”

He bit at Merlin’s collarbone, surely leaving a very visible mark, only to leave a trail of love bites all the way down his chest to his navel.

“Arthur!”

He squeezed his cock through his pants, which were already wet with precome.

“Arthur, _please_.”

“What was that, Merlin?”

“God, just—do something!”

“You’re going to have to persuade me,” Arthur said with a wicked smirk. Merlin scowled, or tried to, in his overly aroused state.

He flipped them over so Merlin straddled Arthur’s hips again. Merlin stood just long enough to get rid of his boxers and settle again, entirely naked. Arthur’s mouth was open, his lips obscenely full and red. Merlin leaned down and fucked his mouth with his tongue until Arthur was thrusting against him, his pants wet and barely holding back his erection as it rubbed against Merlin’s crack.

“Tell me what you want,” Merlin whispered in his ear, still grinding down. Arthur made an incoherent sound. “Tell me.”

“Want to fuck you,” he finally managed. “I want to fuck you into my bed so hard you won’t be able to walk out of the flat for days.”

Arthur’s hands covered the swell of his arse as he spoke. His fingers met in his crack and rubbed the skin around his hole. Merlin yelped. Arthur turned them over.

“That all right?”

“More than all right,” Merlin nodded. He reached and ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair.  “Do it.”

Arthur opened the drawer in the nightstand on his side of the bed and returned with a condom and lube, and without his pants. His cock was high and dark red and glistening. Merlin’s mouth watered for it.

Arthur wasted no time of it. He kissed him sweetly at first while he slowly pressed into Merlin’s hole, working his way in easily. When he added a second finger, the kissing became needier. Merlin moaned and pressed down on him. Arthur left his mouth.

“Arthur—shit!”

His mouth was on his cock, lapping up the precome, spit gathering on Arthur’s lips. He met Merlin’s eye as he gave one long suck and grinned around his cock. Merlin whimpered and his hips bucked into Arthur’s mouth before he could stop himself. He took it, and then slid off, just as he worked in a third finger.

“ _Fuck_ , Arthur, just do it already.”

He half-expected a retort in response but he instead heard the tearing of a condom wrapper, then the pressure of Arthur’s cock at his hole. He slid in, filled Merlin up to the brim so perfectly it almost brought him to tears. Arthur leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“All right?” he asked.

Merlin nodded. He wiggled his hips and Arthur’s cock brushed the spot inside him that nearly made him come.

“God, _move_.”

Arthur bloody laughed, and then he started fucking him, first slowly, Arthur nearly pulling all the way out and them pushing back in agonizingly slowly, then in earnest, making the whole king sized bed rattle and push against the wall. He gasped as Arthur shifted ever so slightly and started to hit his prostate with every thrust. He wrapped his legs around Arthur’s hips and pulled him even closer.

He clung to Arthur’s shoulders, focused on the feeling on Arthur’s lips on his neck, his breath coming hot and fast against his skin. Arthur reached between them and stroked Merlin’s cock, his thumb swiping the slit on the end.

Arthur’s motions started to stutter and the thrusts became shallow and desperate. Merlin dug his fingers into Arthur’s skin, urging him on.

“Come for me, Arthur.”

His words set him over the edge, and the look on his face pulled Merlin down with him. He came all over his chest and Arthur’s hand, a few drops landing on his face. Arthur leaned down and lapped the drops up, making his mouth taste like Merlin when he kissed him, leaving Merlin dizzy and no less aroused than before. Arthur pulled out gingerly and got rid of the condom before collapsing on top of Merlin and curling into the space at the base of his neck.

They were too tired to say anything for a while, content to use each other as sticky pillows and doze. It was warm in the room, warm in Arthur’s embrace. Arthur’s skin was hot and smooth and sweaty until his fingers.

Arthur murmured something into his shoulder.

“What?”

“Stay with me,” Arthur said, slowly extricating himself from Merlin to sit up. He made a face at the spattering of dry come on his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Merlin said with a laugh.

“I meant stay here. Move in.”

Merlin stilled.

“I—I know it’s fast, but your flat sounds horrible. I have plenty of room, and you—you could use the money to help your mom.”

“I can’t stay here without paying rent,” Merlin frowned.

“Merlin. You can pay later, if you really must, but I’m trying to give you a way to save up for her,” Arthur said, picking at the sheets bunched up around them.

“I don’t think….”

“It’s a bit selfish, too,” Arthur said, leaning down to kiss him. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you now, even just to your crappy flat.”

“Oi, poshface, it’s not that crappy!”

Arthur gave him a look.

“All right, it is. I—yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll move in, you prat,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes for good measure. Arthur didn’t even seem to notice. He hugged him tightly and kissed him. Merlin gave him, kissed him back, kissed and touched until they were both rock hard again. Merlin gripped Arthur’s cock and stroked it slowly.

“Christ,” Arthur gasped.

“Nope, just me.”

“ _Merlin_.”

Merlin wriggled out from under him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Arthur demanded.

“Shower. You coming?” Merlin said with a grin. Arthur followed quickly.

“Is this one of your sex fantasies, _Mer_ lin?” he asked, mouthing at his neck while the water heated up. “Sucking me off in the shower?”

“Sucking you off, fucking you against the wall, a million other things. Seeing you with that stupid towel in the mornings gave my imagination a lot to work with,” he said.

“God, do you ever stop talking?”

“You can find a way to shut me up.”

They stepped into the spray and closed the little door behind them. Merlin dropped to his knees and grinned. Arthur looked down, enraptured, his eyes bright blue and a little terrified, but that same conviction was there. This was what he wanted, and this was what Merlin wanted, too.

He wanted to make him _scream_.

So he did, over and over, for a very long time.


End file.
